Make no long tarrying, O my God!
May the downward path be swiftly trod,
Swiftly the failing feet descend:
Short the road, and soon the end.
When the doom is spoken, let it fall:
And when Thou takest, then take all.

And as the sun sinks in the sea,
Nor dim, nor pale, nor overcast,
By no sad change, nor slow degree,
Radiant and royal to the last:
So take the gift Thou gavest me.