O God, I am ashamed to die,
But not the least afraid;
Tho’ death's dark shadow draweth nigh,
Atonement has been made
For every member of our race,
And I on it rely,
And hope immortal blooms thro’ grace;
I'm not afraid to die.
But Thou hast done great things for me,
And I have nothing done.
To set my sin-bound spirit free,
Was sacrificed Thy Son;
And every day by Thy kind hand
Rich blessings are bestowed;
Oh, how can I before Thee stand,
Or rest in Thine abode
With self-respect, or feel at home
With no returns to show,
My whole life like the worthless foam
On time's incessant flow.
Oh, that in life's great harvest field,
I may some reaping do;
Early and late the sickle wield,
And prove a reaper true.
And when the summons comes from Thee,
While I on Christ rely,
Thou wilt not be ashamed of me,
Nor I ashamed to die.