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And I am I born to die. To lay this body down.
And must my trembling spirit fly, Into a world unknown?

A land of deepest shade. Un-pierced by human thought;
The dreary regions of the dead, Where all things are forgot!

Soon as from earth I go, What will become of me?
Eternal happiness of woe Must then my portion be.

Waked by the trumpet sound, I from my grave shall rise;
And see the Judge with glory crowned, And see the flaming skies!

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Source: Original Sacred Harp. Denson Rev. 1971


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