Hush! blessed are the dead

In Jesus’ arms who rest,

And lean their weary head

Forever on His breast.

Oh beatific sight!

No darkling veil between,

They see the Light of Light,

Whom here they loved unseen.

For them the wild is past

with all its toil and care;

Its with’ring midnight blast,

Its fiery noonday glare!

Them the Good Shepherd leads,

Where storms are never rife,

In tranquil dewy meads

Beside the Fount of Life.

Our only are the tears,

Who weep around their tomb;

The light of bygone years

And shadowing year is to me.

Their voice, their touch, their smile,

Those love springs flowing o’er;

Earth for its little while

Shall never know them more.

O tender hearts and true,

Our long last vigil kept,

We weep and mourn for you;

Nor blame us: Jesus wept.

But soon at break of day

His calm almighty voice,

Stronger than death, shall say,

Awake,-Arise, - Rejoice.