Saints to help thee at thy need!
Hark! the knell is ringing.
Fear not snow-drift driving past,
Sleet, or hail, or levin blast;
Soon the shroud shall lap thee fast,
And the sleep be on thee cast
That shall know no waking.
Haste thee, haste thee to be gone,
Earth flits past, and time draws on,—
Gasp thy gasp, and groan thy groan,