Fainter, fainter, all the while

On us beams her patient smile;

Brighter as each day returns,

In her cheek the crimson burns;

And her tearful, fond caress

Hath more loving tenderness,—

Saviour, Saviour, unto her

Draw thou near, and minister!

And when on the crumbling sand

Of life's shore her feet shall stand;

When the death-stream's moaning surge

Sings for her its solemn dirge,

And our earthly love would shrink,

Trembling, backward from the brink.

Saviour, Saviour, take her hand,

That her feet may safely stand!

Firmly hold it in thine own,

Gently, gently lead her down;

And when o'er the solemn sea

Safely she shall walk with thee,

Lead her on that burning way,

Brighter than the path of day,

Where a thousand saints have trod

To the city of our God;

Where a thousand martyrs came

Shining on a path of flame;

Saviour, till her wanderings cease

On the eternal hills of peace.