My God, Thy Service Well Demands

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.