The day of life is closing,
Its last faint beam has fled;
Yet faith, on Christ reposing,
Can Death’s cold waters tread;
The dark sea spreads before me,
Upon the brink I stand;
Oh, guide me, Lord of Glory,
To Heaven’s blissful strand!
To Thee, Lord, I flee,
My trust is in Thee;
“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, thy victory?”