He heard the still small voice of mercy sing
Salvation by a Saviour crucified.

The theme was strange, and much it cost and long
To separate him from the things of earth,
To make him estimate a Saviour's worth,
And introduce him 'mid the blood-bought throng:
My sins, he said, 'twas all the work of God,

My soul till now would fain have lov'd,

Would ne'er have from the world remov'd,
And fixed her whole desires in heaven's abode,
Had not the Lord my whole affections chang'd,
And made me feel to earth's vain joys estrang'd.
Since that bright hour by faith I've seen,

And known they wait for me:

The heavenly mansions and the pastures green,
Where I shall spend eternity.

My sons, he said, Oh haste this bliss to ensure;
Go to the mercy-seat,

Your lamp of life not always will endure,

Your heart not always beat.

Go, when you leave the couch from whence I fly,
To my bright house in heaven-

Go, when you've seen your happy father die,
And be your next thoughts given

To learn the way which leads to all this joy;
How you may reach this heaven be your employ.
My sons, your father fain would meet you all,
As death may call you from this world of gloom.
He fain would meet you in this joyful home,

And more delighted grateful now would fall,
In low prostration at Jehovah's throne,
Who hath elected sire and sons his own."

He ceased, he could no more, the hand of death
Intruded widely on his vital breath,

And thickly, painfully he drew

One and another short convulsive gasp,
While firmer linger death increased his grasp,

And shut at length all present from his view.

But still the dying christian joyful smil'd,
His countenance was placid, calm, and mild,
And all triumphantly he seem'd to gaze,
While upwards turning his expiring eyes,
As if to mark his track beyond the skies.
His lips once more broke forth in ardent praise,
And then he shouted loud and high-

Even now I hear him sing,

"Oh grave, where is thy victory!

Oh death, where is thy sting!"