My God, Thy ser­vice well de­mands
The rem­nant of my days:
Why was this fleet­ing breath re­newed,
But to re­new Thy praise?

Thine arms of ev­er­last­ing love
Did this weak frame sus­tain,
When life was ho­ver­ing o’er the grave,
And na­ture sunk with pain.

Thou, when the pains of death were felt,
Didst chase the fears of hell,
And teach my pale and qui­ver­ing lips
Thy match­less grace to tell.

Calmly I bowed my faint­ing head
On Thy dear faith­ful breast;
Pleased to ob­ey my Fa­ther’s call
To His eter­nal rest.

Into Thy hands, my Sav­ior God,
Did I my soul re­sign,
In firm de­pen­dence on that truth,
Which made sal­va­tion mine.

Back from the bor­ders of the grave,
At Thy com­mand I come:
Nor would I urge a speed­ier flight
To my ce­les­ti­al home.

Where Thou de­ter­mine mine abode,
There would I choose to be;
For in Thy pre­sence death is life,
And earth is Heav’n with Thee.