Fear itself is what makes me afraid
With bodies in graves who long have laid
Which are all now a mere memory
Of a ghost in air who flies so free.
Suppose it is me who is the one
While shade is protected from the sun
And as I languish long I hate to hide;
In me my soul still will want to abide.
Tale our souls to be with you my Lord
As at you both of our eyes look toward
Heaven a home which I forever make
Where day again we will never see break.
Light is everywhere and place I look;
My life is shut like a Bible or book
Whose last page is done and complete;
I have gone to heaven for my Lord to meet.