The technical intricacies of these two verses have not debarred them from the attainment of wide popularity:
My race beneath the sun Is very nearly run; Life fades away in sad decay, Soon shall my day be done: My fragile tent is sorely rent, My strength is spent well-nigh; The hour is near--I must appear In doubt and fear within the clear Immortal sphere on high. | Grant, Lord, Thy peace to me, And Thy dear face to see; Before my day has passed away, All sinless may I be! 107 Thy gracious light in death's dark night Shall soon my fright dispel: In Thy right hand on yonder strand, Where fears disband my soul shall stand-- Sweet land! where all is well! | |