What’s this that steals upon my frame?

Is it death?

That soon will quench this vital flame?

Is it death?

If this be death, I soon shall be

From every pain and sorrow free,

I shall my Lord in glory see—

All is well!

2 Weep not, my friends, weep not for me,

All is well!

My sins are pardoned, I am free;

All is well.

There’s not a cloud that doth arise,

To hide my Saviour from my eyes;

I soon shall mount the upper skies—

All is well.

3 Tune, tune your harps, ye saints in glory,

All is well;

I will rehearse the pleasing story,

All is well.

Bright angels have from glory come,

They’re round my bed, they’re in my room,

They wait to waft my spirit home—

All is well.

4 Hark, hark, my Lord and Master calls me,

All is well;

I soon shall see his face in glory,

All is well.

Farewell, dear friends, adieu, adieu,

I can no longer stay with you—

My glittering crown appears in view;

All is well.

5 Hail, hail, all hail, ye blood-washed throng,

Saved by grace;

I’ve come to join your rapturous song,

Saved by grace.

All, all is peace and joy divine,

All heaven and glory now are mine;

O, hallelujah to the Lamb!

All is well.