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See LYRICS

Note that the book from which this song was taken is currently out of print.


1. The rising morning can't ensure,
That we shall end the day;
For death stands waiting at the door,
To snatch our lives away,
To snatch our lives away.

2. The evening rests our weary head,
And angels guard the room;
We wake, and we admire the bed,
That was not made our tomb,
That was not made our tomb.