Why should we start and fear to die? What timorous worms we mortals are Death is the gate to endless joy And yet we fear to enter there The pains, the groans, the dying strife Fright our approaching souls away And we shrink back again to life Fond of our prison, fond of our clay Oh, 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 Oh, Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are And on his breast I lay my head And breathe my life out sweetly there And breathe my life out sweetly there And breathe my life out sweetly there