And am I born to die? To lay this body down? And must my trembling spirit fly, Into a world unknown? A land of deepest shade, Unpierced by human thought; The dreary regions of the dead, Where all things are forgot! Soon as from earth I go, What will become of me? Eternal happiness or woe, Must then my portion be. Waked by the trumpet's sound, I from my grave shall rise; And see the Judge with glory crowned And see the flaming skies.