Death! ’Tis an Awful Word

Death! ’tis an aw­ful word

And fills the mind with fear;

But joy­ful is a dy­ing bed

If Thou

oh God

art near.

Let but my nu­mer­ous sins

Behind Thy back be cast.

The poi­son­ous sting of death is gone

The bit­ter­ness is past.

To un­be­liev­ing man

Wrath quick­ly fol­lows death;

The dread­ed por­tion he re­ceives

When he re­signs his breath.

To mor­tals all around

He looks for help in vain;

Nor means

nor mi­nis­ters

nor friends

Can mi­ti­gate his pain.

But let suf­fi­cient grace

In my last hours be giv’n

Twill spread a lus­ter ov­er death

And be the dawn of Heav’n.