On the death of a saint

1 Blessed are they (the Scriptures say)
That dying win the prize,
For rest they shall, their good works all
Do follow them likewise.

2 Death's but a sleep, why should we weep
For those in Christ who die?
Since this we know to peace they go,
And joys possess on High.

3 Although to dust their bodies must
Be turned beneath the clod,
Yet they shall rise above the skies,
And ever live with God.

4 Christ will aloud before the crowd
Composed of Adam's race,
Confess them dear, who owned him here,
And bore for him disgrace.

5 Robes they shall have that will outbrave
The whiteness of the snow;
Most pure and bright, like shining light;
Such Jesus will bestow.

6 Then why need we dejected be?
Our loss is their great gain;
For they shall stand at Christ's right hand,
And with their Savior reign.

7 Their happy days are spent in praise,
While here we sign and groan;
Could we but see how blest they be,
'Twould make us cease to moan.

8 If there was end, 'twould trouble send,
And would eclipse the joy,
But 'tis not so, they'll never go
Out of that sweet employ.

9 When they've been there ten million Years,
And millions more are done,
They've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when they first begun.

The Christian's duty, exhibited in a series of hymns, 1791