1 Death! 'tis a melancholy day,
To those who have no God,
When the poor soul is forc'd away,
To seek her last abode.

2 In vain to heav'n she lifts her eyes;
But guilt, a heavy chain,
Still drags her downward from the skies,
To darkness, fire, and pain.

3 Awake and mourn, ye heirs of hell;
Let stubborn sinners fear:
You must be driv'n from earth, and dwell
A long for ever there.

4 See how the pit gapes wide for you,
And flashes in your face;
And thou, my soul, look downward too,
And sing recov'ring grace.

5 He is a God of sov'reign love,
That promis'd heav'n to me,
And taught my thoughts to soar above
Where happy spirits be.

6 Prepare me, Lord, for thy right-hand;
Then come the joyful day;
Come death, and some celestial band,
To bear my soul away.