Ask not for life, ’tis vain at best,
A period fraught with bitter woe,
A gaudy fiction when ’tis blest,
A constant struggle here below;
But Death! it bears the weary home,
Where sin and sorrow cannot come.
To die in youth, to ’scape the pain
That like a shadow marks our way,
To die, aye ’tis to live again
In brighter regions far away;