The Valley of the Shadow of Death.--Psalm xxiii. 4

Though I walk the downward shade,
Deepening through the vale of death,
Yet I will not be afraid,
But, with my departing breath,
I will glory in my God,
In my Saviour I will trust,
Strengthen'd by His staff and rod,
While this body falls to dust.

Soon on wings, on wings of love,
My transported soul shall rise,
Like the home-returning dove,
Vanishing through boundless skies;
Then, where death shall be no more,
Sin nor suffering e'er molest,
All my days of mourning o'er,
In his presence I shall rest.