For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live If Jordan above me shall roll, No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life, Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait The sky, not the grave, is our goal ; Oh, trump of the Angel ! Oh, voice of the Lord ! Blessed hope ! Blessed rest of my soul !