8,8,8,8
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.