As I lay, cold and sick
I thought I heard the grating click
Of the latch upon the door.
But no, it was perhaps the wind.
Gently did I close my eyes
Yet, aloud a raspy cry
Of rusty hinges creaking on their frames.
Or is it just my failing mind?
Now again I try to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
But are those steps across the floor?
Is at last my soul to find some peace?
Some peace, some peace, some peace
Will this fever never cease?
My eyes are open now.
I see his face is kind.
Softly he had entered with the dead
Gently, Death is cradling my head
A peaceful sigh escapes my lips
Even as I slip away into his warm embrace.