Frances Jane Crosby Van Alstyne

Let me die on the prairie! and o’er my rude grave,
In the soft breeze of summer the tall grass shall wave;
I would breathe my last sigh as the bright hues of even
Are melting away in the blue arch of Heaven.

Let me die on the prairie! unwept and unknown,
I would pass from this fair Earth forgotten, alone;—
Yet no! – there are hearts I have learned to revere,
And methinks there is bliss in affection’s warm tear.

Oh, speak not to me of the green cypress shade;
I would sleep where the bones of the Indian are laid,
And the deer will bound o’er me with step light and free,
And the carol of birds will my requiem be.

Oh! could I see as thou hast seen,
The garden of the west,
When Spring in all her loveliness
Fair nature’s face has dressed.

The rolling prairie, vast and wild!
It hath a charm for me—
Its tall grass waving to the breeze,
Like billows on the sea.

Say, hast thou chased the bounding deer
When smiled the rosy morn?
Or hast thou listened to the sound
Of the merry hunter’s horn?

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood!

Chorus:
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Saviour all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest,