Dear mourning friends, now dry your tears;
Bid ev'ry murm'ring thought be still;
My mind is free from doubts and fears,—
I sink into my Savior's will.
With smiles of vict'ry on his brow,
And heav'nly transport in his breast,
Well pleased, he leaves this vale of woe,
And like an infant sinks to rest.
Down through the portals of the sky
Descend a glorious shining band.