8,8,8,8

The hour of my departure's come;

I hear the voice that calls me home:

At last, O Lord! let trouble cease.

And let thy servant die in peace.

The race appointed I have run;

The combat's o'er, the prize is won;

And now my witness is on high,

And now my record's in the sky.

Not in mine innocence I trust;

I bow before thee in the dust;

And through my Saviour's blood alone

I look for mercy at thy throne.

I leave the world without a tear,

Save for the friends I held so dear;

To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend,

And to the friendless prove a friend.

I come, I come, at thy command,

I give my spirit to thy hand;

stretch forth thine everlasting arms,

And shield me in the last alarms.

The hour of my departure's come;

I hear the voice that calls me home;

Now, O my God! let trouble cease;

Now let thy servant die in peace.