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This vain world is fleeting, surely,
 I feel it so, as days pass o'er;
And I know I'm fading slowly
 Into the vast Forevermore.

Yet no sad'ning thoughts steal ever,
 Nor do I bewail the call,
When I bid farewell forever,
 And laid within my narrow wall.

Thoughts of death ne'er cause a shiver,
 That once so used to chill my frame.
I only pray that God deliver
 Me from this fearful mortal pain.

This living sorrow without ending,
 Crushing life,—no hope remain,—
Is far more fearful to the living
 Than death; for then we know no pain.

Ere the damps of death close o'er us,—
 Cradled in our narrow bed,—
With cold hands clasp'd across the bosom,
 Heartaches gone when we are dead.

Let us strive, ere this last parting,
 To right all wrongs ere yet too late;
By securing to our darlings
 Equal shares in our estate.