I would not live al­way;
I ask not to stay
Where storm af­ter storm
Rises dark o’er the way;
The few lur­id morn­ings
That dawn on us here
Are enough for life’s woes,
Full enough for its cheer.

I would not live al­way,
Thus fet­tered by sin;
Temptation with­out,
And cor­rupt­ion with­in;
E’en the rap­ture of par­don
Is min­gled with fears,
And the cup of thanks­giv­ing
With pe­ni­tent tears.

I would not live al­way;
No, wel­come the tomb:
Since Je­sus hath lain there,
I dread not its gloom;
There sweet be my rest,
Till He bid me arise
To hail Him in tri­umph
Descending the skies.

Who, who would live al­way,
Away from his God,
Away from yon Hea­ven,
That bliss­ful abode,
Where the rivers of plea­sure
Flow o’er the bright plains,
And the noon­tide of glo­ry
Eternally reigns;

Where the saints of all ag­es
In har­mo­ny meet,
Their Sav­ior and breth­ren,
Transported, to greet;
While the an­thems of rap­ture
Unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord
Is the feast of the soul?