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Prospect
Willi Carlisle
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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
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