Your lamp burns low,
And your vision dims in the gloom
Let me catch a sheaf of sunbeams
To light your darkened room.

The music has gone from your soul;
The last falt'ring note has faded away.
Let me bring a meadowlark.
To sing for you today.

Your hands are cold, so cold
as the icy hands of death
are cold. Let me lie down
here beside you
And warm you with my breath.

The final phase of your being
communes alone with fate.
I yearn to hold you one last time,
but I cannot reach you--
The hour is late, so late.

My own lamp burns low, as well,
And my soul is torn and anguished.
There is no peace or quietude,
for the light of my life
Is near extinguished.

The Angels hover near,
and soon your spirit will soar.
Let me whisper in the silence,
"I shall love you forevermore.