He loved, had served the God of heaven,
But death’s a fearful thing:
And when all earth-wrought ties are riven,
When back to dust the dust is given,
The soul which long with sin has striven,
May shrink to meet the King.
He trusted; but still shivering clung,
Where long he’d been a guest;
Meanwhile death-pangs his bosom wrung;
The scared soul on the hushed lip hung,