The Poetry Corner

Ashamed, But Not Afraid

By Joseph Horatio Chant

O God, I am ashamed to die, But not the least afraid; Tho' death's dark shadow draweth nigh, Atonement has been made For every member of our race, And I on it rely, And hope immortal blooms thro' grace; I'm not afraid to die. But Thou hast done great things for me, And I have nothing done. To set my sin-bound spirit free, Was sacrificed Thy Son; And every day by Thy kind hand Rich blessings are bestowed; Oh, how can I before Thee stand, Or rest in Thine abode With self-respect, or feel at home With no returns to show, My whole life like the worthless foam On time's incessant flow. Oh, that in life's great harvest field, I may some reaping do; Early and late the sickle wield, And prove a reaper true. And when the summons comes from Thee, While I on Christ rely, Thou wilt not be ashamed of me, Nor I ashamed to die.