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?”
No longer here detain me,
I hear my Saviour’s voice,
I feel His arm sustain me,
I triumph and rejoice!
The Lord will bless for ever
Those who His love have known,
Nor life, nor death shall sever
The Saviour from His own!
Victorious and free
His people shall be;
“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, thy victory?”