‘Tis sweet to think of those at rest,
Who sleep in Christ the Lord,
Whose spirits now with Him are blest,
According to His word.

They once were pilgrims here with us;
In Jesus now they sleep:
And we for them, while resting thus,
As hopeless cannot weep.

How bright the resurrection-morn
On all the saints shall break!
The Lord Himself will then return,
His ransomed church to take.

Our Lord Himself we then shall see,
Whose blood for us was shed,
With Him for ever we shall be,
Made like our glorious Head.

We cannot linger o’er the tomb;
The resurrection day
To faith shines bright beyond its gloom,
Christ’s glory to display.