Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 2025 Edition

Oh, sing to me of heav’n
When I am called to die;
Sing songs of holy ecstasy
To waft my soul on high.

When cold and sluggish drops
Roll off my marble brow,
Burst forth in strains of joyfulness,
Let heav’n begin below.

When the last moment comes,
Oh, watch my dying face,
And catch the bright, seraphic gleam
Which on each feature plays.

Then to my ravished ear
Let one sweet song begin;
Let music charm me last on earth,
And greet me first in heav’n.

Then close my sightless eyes,
And lay me down to rest,
And clasp my cold and icy hands
Across my peaceful breast.

Then round my senseless clay
Assemble those I love,
And sing of heav’n, delightful heav’n,
My glorious home above.