1 '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.
2 They once were pilgrims here with us;
Through Jesus now they sleep:
And we for them, while resting thus,
As hopeless cannot weep.
3 How bright the resurrection-morn
On all the saints will break!
The Lord Himself will then return
His ransomed church to take.
4 Or raised or changed His saints will meet,
All grief and care removed:
What joy 'twill be to us to greet
Each saint whom here we loved!
5 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.
6 We cannot linger o'er the tomb:
To faith shines bright beyond its gloom,
Christ's glory to display.