Oft as the bell, with so­lemn toll,
Speaks the de­part­ure of a soul;
Let each one ask him­self: Am I
Prepared, should I be called to die?

Only this frail and fleet­ing breath
Preserves me from the jaws of death;
Soon as it fails, at once I’m gone,
And plunged in­to a world un­known.

Then, leav­ing all I loved be­low,
To God’s tri­bun­al I must go;
Must hear the Judge pro­nounce my fate,
And fix my ev­er­last­ing state.

But could I bear to hear Him say,
Depart, ac­curs­èd, far away!
With Sa­tan, in the low­est hell,
Thou art for ev­er doomed to dwell.

Lord Je­sus! help me now to flee,
And seek my hope alone in Thee.
Apply Thy blood, Thy Spir­it give,
Subdue my sin, and in me live.

Then, when the sol­emn bell I hear,
If saved from guilt, I need not fear;
Nor would the thought dis­tress­ing be,
Perhaps it next may toll for me.

Rather, my spir­it would re­joice,
And long, and wish, to hear Thy voice;
Glad when it bids me earth re­sign,
Secure of Heav’n, if Thou art mine.