O God, I Am Ashamed To Die, But Not The Least Afraid; Tho' Death'S Dark Shadow Draweth Nigh, Atonement Has Been Made For Every Member Of Our Race, And I On It Rely, And Hope Immortal Blooms Thro' Grace; I'm Not Afraid To Die. But Thou Hast Done Great Things For Me, And I Have Nothing Done. To Set My Sin-Bound Spirit Free, Was Sacrificed Thy Son; And Every Day By Thy Kind Hand Rich Blessings Are Bestowed; Oh, How Can I Before Thee Stand, Or Rest In Thine Abode With Self-Respect, Or Feel At Home With No Returns To Show, My Whole Life Like The Worthless Foam On Time'S Incessant Flow. Oh, That In Life'S Great Harvest Field, I May Some Reaping Do; Early And Late The Sickle Wield, And Prove A Reaper True. And When The Summons Comes From Thee, While I On Christ Rely, Thou Wilt Not Be Ashamed Of Me, Nor I Ashamed To Die.