And what is that wide open grave
With all its weighting clods?
Is it a door from life's wide hall
That opens into God's?
With all its weighting clods?
Is it a door from life's wide hall
That opens into God's?
We cannot tell, but this we pray
Beside that close-shut door;
Death must be sweet, since those who die
Come back no more, no more.
Beside that close-shut door;
Death must be sweet, since those who die
Come back no more, no more.
Life may itself be but a sleep,
A mystery supreme,
And that low whisper at the end
May wake us from a dream.
A mystery supreme,
And that low whisper at the end
May wake us from a dream.
When my call comes I shall not need
The urge of biting goad,
Like pilgrim I will fare me forth—
Upon Death's Open Road.
The urge of biting goad,
Like pilgrim I will fare me forth—
Upon Death's Open Road.
DEATH
Be comforted,
O frail and faint of heart who stand dismayed
And trembling on life's crumbling brink;
The road beyond the grave may not be long,
Heaven may lie closer than we think.
O frail and faint of heart who stand dismayed
And trembling on life's crumbling brink;
The road beyond the grave may not be long,
Heaven may lie closer than we think.
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