And am I born to die?
To lay this body down?
And must my trembling spirit fly,
Into a world unknown?

A land of deepest shade,
Unpierced by human thought;
The dreary regions of the dead,
Where all things are forgot!

Soon as from earth I go,
What will become of me?
Eternal happiness or woe,
Must then my portion be.

Waked by the trumpet’s sound,
I from my grave shall rise;
And see the Judge with glory crowned
And see the flaming skies.

Recordings 1