’Tis sweet to think of those at rest, Who sleep in Christ the Lord, Whose spirits now with Him are blest, According to His Word. They once were pilgrims here with us; In Jesus now they sleep; And we for them, while resting thus, As hopeless cannot weep. How bright the resurrection morn On all the saints will break! The Lord Himself will then return, His ransomed church to take. Our Lord Himself we then shall see, Whose blood for us was shed; With Him forever we shall be, Made like our glorious Head. We cannot linger o’er the tomb; The resurrection day To faith shines bright beyond its gloom, Christ’s glory to display.