How blest the right­eous are
When they re­sign their breath!
No won­der Ba­laam wished to share
In such a hap­py death.
Oh! let me die, said he,
The death the right­eous do;
When life is end­ed let me be
Found with the faith­ful few.

The force of truth how great!
When ene­mies con­fess,
None but the right­eous whom they hate,
A so­lid hope pos­sess.
But Ba­laam’s wish was vain,
His heart was in­sin­cere;
He thirst­ed for un­right­eous gain,
And sought a por­tion here.

He seemed the Lord to know,
And to of­fend Him loth;
But Mam­mon proved his ov­er­throw,
For none can serve them both.
May you, my friends, and I,
Warning from hence re­ceive;
If like the right­eous we would die,
To choose the life they live.