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.