Why that sigh, my soul, at parting

Why that sigh, my soul, at parting
From a world so cold as this?
Why those silent tear-drops starting,
Standing at the gates of bliss?
Soon this struggle shall be ended,
Jordan's swellings soon be past,
And these fears, — a while suspended, —
Lose themselves in heaven at last.

What is death! — to sleep in Jesus
When this weary strife is o'er,
And to sorrows, sins, diseases
Never to awaken more!
Safe from every care and anguish,
Leaning on the Saviour's breast,
"Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest!"