• The hour of sad memories
    Brings back the happy few,
    And the moon shines as a quiet breeze
    Her mellow light through the dew.

    Night falls with the happy thought
    That I might live until morn,
    With god's protection, without retort,
    Without contempt or scorn.

    If he my soul should take away
    And to his bosom hold,
    It's only then that I may say
    The hour of death is gold.

    Its gold for I am God's arms
    In Heaven's quiet calm,
    Where none beg from others alms
    In the blessed quiet away from harm.

    And so, now that the time has come
    When I must surely die,
    I'll surely try to be at home
    For the hour of death is no lie.