1 Why should we start and fear to die? What tim’rous worms we mortals are! Death is the gate to endless joy, And yet we dread to enter there. 2 The pains, the groans, the dying strife, Fright our approaching souls away; And we shrink back again to life, Fond of our prison and our clay. 3 O if my Lord would come and meet, My soul would stretch her wings in haste, Fly fearless through death’s iron gate, Nor feel the terrors as she passed. 4 Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are; While on His breast I lean my head, And breathe my life out sweetly there.