Their kindness I know, the returns of their love,
And ask for them blessings that come from above.
But he’s gone to the grave, where, free from all care,
He knows not the grief which for him I now bear.
There rest till our Saviour shall bid thee arise;
Then may we immortal ascend to the skies.
With this hope I can triumph o’er earth’s deepest gloom,
The dearest and loveliest can yield to the tomb;
When bowed in submission, my Saviour appears,
Bids me trust in his word, and refrain from my tears.