Blessed are they henceforth that die
1
Blessed are they henceforth that dieReclining on the Saviour's breast;They cease from every care and sigh,From all their labors they have rest.
2
No more they meet with cruel foes,No more with anxious care oppressed:They warred the conflict till life's close;Their toil is o'er, they sweetly rest.
3
The living saints have yet to meetAnd brave the tempter's utmost ire;The grave will be a blest retreatWhile earth is whelmed in troubles dire.
4
Thy righteous will be done, O God!To meet the foe and overcome,Or lay me down beneath the sodTo rest till thou shalt call me home.