Come, welcome death. the end of fears,
I am prepared to die;
I trust my soul will straight ascend,
Up to the Lord on high.
Alas! and am I born to die? O, my soul, wilt thou ere long take thy flight to realms of endless
bliss, or to the shades of darkest night, and leave this frail tenement? Will these eyes be closed, a
lump of cold and lifeless clay? these lips cease to speak, and this heart cease to beat? these hands
and feet become inactive, cold, and stiff, and this form of mine become
45food for worms, and turn to dust! Alas, alas, how mournful is the thought! but, pale messenger, I
fear thee not, with all thy grim and ghastly terrors, for my Redeemer lives. He lives, and he is able
to disarm thee of thy sting, and no one is able to pluck me out of my Redeemer's hand. He will
safely carry me through the dark valley and the shadow of death, and angels will convey me to
heaven. Then while my body lies mouldering here, my soul shall rest from all her sorrows, and
shall chant the praises of my Redeemer, till the last trumpet shall sound; then shall my sleeping
dust awake, and my souls and body be reunited and fly with transport to meet my Saviour, when
he shall come with ten thousand of his saints and angels, to take vengeance on his enemies.
The trumpet sounds,
Lift up you-heads, ye saints. with cheerful voices
No more shall atheist mock his long delay.
His vengeance sleeps no more.
Behold the day!
His guards are nigh;
Tempest and fire attend him down the sky.
When God appears,
All nations shall adore him
Whilst sinners tremble,
Saints rejoice before him.