During our last fund drive one donor said this: "I love hymns ... If you asked for money,
it means you need it! Please keep the work going. And please, accept my widow's mite. God bless you."
She was right. We only ask for money twice a year, and we do so because we need it.
So, before you close this box and move on to use the many resources on Hymnary.org,
please prayerfully consider whether you might be able to make a gift to support our work.
Gifts of any amount are appreciated, assist our work and let us know that we have partners
in our effort to create the best database of hymns on the planet.
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1 Whence has the world her magic power?
Why deem we death a foe?
Recoil from weary life's best hour,
And covet longer wo?
2 The cause is conscience--conscience oft
Her tale of guilt renews;
Her voice is terrible, though soft,
And dread of death ensues.
3 Then anxious to be longer spar'd,
Man mourns his fleeting breath;
All evils then seem light, compar'd
With the approach of death.
4 'Tis judgment shakes him--there's the fear
That prompts the wish to stay:
He has incurr'd a long arrear,
And must despair to pay.
5 Pay!--follow Christ, and all is paid;
His death your peace ensures;
Think on the grave where he was laid,
And calm descend to ours.
Source: Hymns, Selected and Original: for public and private worship (1st ed.) #700