Classic Poem

The hour of my departure's come;
I hear the voice that calls me home:
At last, O Lord! let trouble cease,
And let Thy servant die in peace.

The race appointed I have run;
The combat's o'er, the prize is won;
And now my witness is on high,
And now my record's in the sky.

Not in mine innocence I trust;
I bow before Thee in the dust;
And through my Saviour's blood alone
I look for mercy at thy throne.

I leave the world without a tear,
Save for the friends I held so dear;
To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend,
And to the friendless prove a friend.

I come, I come, at Thy command,
I give my spirit to Thy hand;
Stretch forth Thine everlasting arms,
And shield me in the last alarms.

The hour of my departure's come:
I hear the voice that calls me home:
Now, O my God! let trouble cease;
Now let Thy servant die in peace.