My race is run; my warfare’s o’er;

the solemn hour is nigh,

When, offered up to God, my soul

shall wing its flight on high.

With heav’nly weapons I have fought

the battles of the Lord;

Finished my course, and kept the faith,

depending on his word.

Henceforth there is laid up for me

a crown which cannot fade;

The righteous Judge at that great day

shall place it on my head.

Nor hath the Sov’reign Lord decreed

this prize for me alone;

But for all such as love like me

th’ appearance of his Son.

From ev’ry snare and evil work

his grace shall me defend,

And to his heav’nly kingdom safe

shall bring me in the end.