Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away!

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?

Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!