THE DYING CALIFORNIAN

Words by "Amintor" in the Connecticut Evangelical Magazine 1, 
  no. 6 (1800)
Tune: Christian Song, by Jeremiah Ingalls, Sacred Harp, p. 240

  My eyes are now closing to rest; 
  My body must soon be removed;
  And mouldering lie buried in dust;
  No more to be envied or loved.

  O happy! Thrice happy exchange!
  My Suviour with eyes full of love, 
  Now beckons me--soon I shall range
  The fields of bright glory above.

  O! Break off these fetters of clay! 
  I long to be freed from this load:
  Lord Jesus, I mourn thy delay, 
  Impatient to be with my God. 

  Each moment seems lingering & slow, 
  While far from my home I must stay;
  I long for those pleasures that flow 
  Unceasing in regions of day. 

  Ah! What it this drawing my breath, 
  And stealing my senses away?
  O! tell me, my soul, is it death, 
  Releasing thee kindly from clay? 

  Now mounting, I soon shall descry 
  The regions of pleasure and love:
  My spirit triumphing shall fly,
  And dwell with my Saviour above.

  Mo more to be tempted by sin; 
  No longer by Satan be vex'd; 
  My conscience is peaceful within, 
  And is by no passion perplex'd. 

  Now speedily wafted on wing, 
  This world in a moment I leave: 
  O! death where is now thy fam'd sting? 
  And where is thy vict'ry, O grave?