I think I may soon die, my friend,
This road we tread must have an end,
The days we walk are numbered sure,
And none will find this life secure.
I sense corruption at my heel,
The brightened day is but surreal,
Yet, I believe that I am blessed,
Excitement rises in my breast.
I long to hold the one I love,
Then praise my Maker up above,
And let my soul go fast asleep,
And pray the one I love won’t weep.
