Death! ’tis a me­lan­cho­ly day,
To those that have no God,
When the poor soul is forced away,
To seek her last abode.

In vain to Heav’n she lifts her eyes,
But guilt, a hea­vy chain,
Still drags her down­ward from the skies,
To dark­ness, fire, and pain.

Awake and mourn, ye heirs of hell,
Let stub­born sin­ners fear;
You must be driv’n from earth, and dwell
A long for­ev­er there.

See how the pit gapes wide for you,
And flash­es in your face;
And thou, my soul, look down­ward too,
And sing re­co­ver­ing grace.

He is a God of so­ver­eign love,
That pro­mised Heav’n to me,
And taught my thoughts to soar above,
Where hap­py spir­its be.

Prepare me, Lord, for Thy right hand,
Then come the joy­ful day;
Come, death, and some ce­les­ti­al band,
To bear my soul away.