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I'm Afraid.

"Mother!" cried a dying boy,
 As he clasped her loving hand;
While the darkness round him fell,
 Shutting out the watching band;
"Mother, darling, hold me fast,
 And by your maternal aid,
I can better cross the stream;
 Hold me fast for I'm afraid."
  Soft and low her words were falling,
  O'er the stream her voice was calling;
  "Lean not on my earthly aid
  Jesus calls, be not afraid."

"Darling husband, nearer bend,
 I can scarcely see your face;
Hold me closer to your breast,
 In this mournful last embrace.
Come and scatter flowers bright,
 Where my form is lowly laid;
Do not, do not let me go,
 Darling husband I'm afraid."
  Soft and low his words were falling,
  O'er the stream his voice was calling;
  "Lean not on my earthly aid,
  Jesus calls, be not afraid."