Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest work is done;
Come from the heat of battle, and in peace,
Soldier, go home; with thee the field is won.
3 Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay,
In death’s embraces, ere he rose on high;
And all the ransomed, by that narrow way,
Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.
4 Go to the grave,—no, to thy home above;
Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord,
Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love,