Oft as the bell, with solemn toll,
Speaks the departure of a soul;
Let each one ask himself: Am I
Prepared, should I be called to die?

Only this frail and fleeting breath
Preserves me from the jaws of death;
Soon as it fails, at once I’m gone,
And plunged into a world unknown.

Then, leaving all I loved below,
To God’s tribunal I must go;
Must hear the Judge pronounce my fate,
And fix my ev­er­last­ing state.

But could I bear to hear Him say,
Depart, accursèd, far away!
With Satan, in the lowest hell,
Thou art for ever doomed to dwell.

Lord Je­sus! help me now to flee,
And seek my hope alone in Thee.
Apply Thy blood, Thy Spi­rit give,
Subdue my sin, and in me live.

Then, when the solemn bell I hear,
If saved from guilt, I need not fear;
Nor would the thought distressing be,
Perhaps it next may toll for me.

Rather, my spirit would rejoice,
And long, and wish, to hear Thy voice;
Glad when it bids me earth resign,
Secure of Heav’n, if Thou art mine.