When My Last Hour Is Close At Hand And I

WHEN my last hour is close at hand,
And I must hence betake me,
Lord Jesus Christ, beside me stand,
Nor let Thy help forsake me;
To Thy blest hands I now commend
My soul, at this my earthly end,
And Thou wilt safely keep it.

My sins, dear Lord, disturb me sore,
My conscience cannot slumber;
But though as sands upon the shore,
My sins may be in number,
I will not quail, but think of Thee;
Thy death, Thy sorrow, borne for me,
Thy sufferings shall uphold me.

I have been grafted in the Vine,
And hence my comfort borrow,
For Thou wilt surely keep me Thine
Through fear, and pain, and sorrow;
Yea, though I die, I die to Thee,
Who through Thy death hast won for me
The right to life eternal.

Since Thou from death didst rise again,
In death Thou wilt not leave me;
Lord, Thy ascension soothes my pain,
No fear of death shall grieve me;
For Thou wilt have me where Thou art,
And so with joy I can depart
To be with Thee forever.

And so I stretch mine arms to Thee,
And gladly hence betake me;
Peaceful and calm my sleep shall be,
No human voice can wake me.
But Christ is with me through the strife,
And He will bear me into life,
And open heaven before me.