Still let me cling to life; though hope be fled

“Still let me cling to life; though hope be fled, That mission I would fill for him whose hand Gave me the charge; but even that hope is dead, And from the glass of time the sliding sand Is almost run. Oh, thou mayest understand And yet fulfil my unavailing vow. While yet I breathe on life’s uncertain strand, To thee I give the sacred trust. Even now Death’s touch is at my heart, his chill is on my brow.”