On ev'ry side their marble tablets seen?
Their sleep, now quiet, will not be, I ween,
When the archangel's trumpet loud shall sound:
Not one of all will then be heedless found
But all will spring to life; a mingled scene
Of grief, despair, and sweet and high delight.
I speak not of the bad; but sure a throng
Of loving friends will meet the judge's sight,
Skill'd in the notes of ransom'd sinners' song.—
Shall we be with these sleepers as they rise?