Verse 1
When I have run my earthly race,
Lord, I want no greater praise,
If thy true worshippers
Their momentary loss deplore,
And widows desolate and poor
Imbalm me with their tears.
Verse 2
Till then I would my hands employ,
Serving them with humblest joy
And warmest charity:
For taught of God, I surely know,
That ministring to saints below,
I cloath and cherish Thee.