1 Hark! from on high a solemn voice;
Let all attentive hear!
'Twill make each pious heart rejoice,
And vanquish ev'ry fear.
2 "Thrice blessed are the pious dead,
Who in the Lord shall die;
Their weary flesh, as on a bed,
Safe in the grave shall lie.
Their holy souls, at length releas'd,
To heav'n shall take their flight;
There to enjoy eternal rest,
And infinite delight.
4 They drop each load as they ascend,
And quit this world of wo;
Their labours with their life shall end,
Their rest no period know.
5 Their conflicts with their busy foes
For evermore shall cease;
None shall their happiness oppose,
Nor interrupt their peace.
6 But bright rewards shall recompense
Their faithful service here;
And perfect love shall banish thence
Each gloomy doubt and fear."
|First Line:||Hark! from on high a solemn voice|