Take comfort, Christians, when your friends
in Jesus fall asleep;
Their better being never ends;
why then dejected weep?
Why inconsolable, as those
to whom no hope is giv’n?
Death is the messenger of peace,
and calls the soul to heav’n.
As Jesus died, and rose again
victorious from the dead;
So his disciples rise, and reign
with their triumphant Head.
The time draws nigh, when from the clouds
Christ shall with shouts descend,
And the last trumpet’s awful voice
the heav’ns and earth shall rend.
Then they who live shall changed be,
and they who sleep shall wake;
The graves shall yield their ancient charge,
and earth’s foundations shake.
The saints of God, from death set free,
with joy shall mount on high;
The heav’nly hosts with praises loud
shall meet them in the sky,
Together to their Father’s house
with joyful hearts they go;
And dwell for ever with the Lord,
beyond the reach of woe.
A few short years of evil past,
we reach the happy shore,
where death-divided friends at last
shall meet, to part no more.