I'M NOT AFRAID TO DIE

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 2, 1858

I'M NOT AFRAID TO DIE.

I AM not afraid of dying; Where the sainted dead are lying, I could love in peace to slumber, till the trumpet rends the skies; And when the morn had risen, Which shall pierce their gloomy prison, I would join their song of triumph, as they mount the upper skies.

Earth with charms I cannot number, Woos me to a placid slumber, Dreamless, deep and all unbroken 'neath the summer turf so green; Roses everywhere are blowing; Will a better time for going To the land of sleep and silence come life's morn and eve between?

I am not afraid of dying; In such holy, quiet lying There would come no weary waking with a weight upon my breast; Were the mornings gray or golden, By a sweet enchantment holden I should slumber till the angels bore me up to heavenly rest.

But, O God! 'tis fearful living, When we know each hour is giving Radiance or shadows to the soul's eternal years! All my heart grows faint with sorrow, Will it come, the dim to-morrow, Bringing gladness or the burden of to-day's o'erhanging fears!

Though we yearn with strong endeavor Good from evil still to sever, 'Tis an oft-unlighted pathway to the fair celestial land: And the moments upward stealing With a pitiless revealing, Waiting, waiting for our entrance, by the stainless Father stand.

Mine's a short and simple story; O thou tender Lord of Glory! Bear me gently in thy bosom when I'm weary of the way! Only let me see thee clearer, Only whisper, "Child, come nearer." So my living shall be blessed as my welcome dying day!