1 Why should we start and fear to die? What timorous worms we mortals are! Death is the gate of endless joy, And yet we dread to enter there.
2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife, Fright our approaching souls away; Still we shrink back again to life, Fond of our prison and our clay.
3 O, if my Lord would come and meet, My soul should stretch her wings in haste, Fly fearless thro' death's iron gate, Nor feel the terrors as she pass'd.
4 Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head, And breathe my life out sweetly there.