I have a fear as ne’er before,
As if I stood at Death’s dread door
And needs must enter and plunge down
In dark and lonely realms to drown;
Storm’s might would seize me constantly:
O Lord, o Lord, keep hold of me!
All evil in me comes from me,
All good that I have done from Thee;
What others owe me I write down,
What I owe others I disown;
How well each day I seek to trace
That which enhances my own case.
I shall be trodden by Death’s heel
Before my soul true joy can feel.
The Lord’s Prayer, like the dove-held leaf,
Lay on my tongue to banish grief.
If God I have not, what have I
When this world’s over and I die!