Happy are the faithful dead!
In the Lord who sweetly die,
They from all their toils are freed:
Them the Spirit hath declared
Blest, unutterably blest;
Jesus is their great reward,
Jesus is their endless rest.
Followed by their works they go,
Where their Head is gone before;
Reconciled by grace below,
Grace hath opened mercy’s door;
Justified through faith alone,
Here they knew their sins forgiven,
Here they laid their burden down,
Hallowed and made meet for heaven.
Who can now lament the lot
Of a saint in Christ deceased?
Let the world, who know us not,
Call us hopeless and unblest;
When from flesh the spirit freed
Hastens homeward to return,
Mortals cry, “A man is dead!”
Angels sing, “A child is born!”
Born into the world above,
They our happy brother greet;
Bear him to the throne of love,
Place him at the Saviour’s feet:
Jesus smiles, and says, “Well done!
Good and faithful servant thou!
Enter, and receive thy crown;
Reign with me triumphant now.”
Charles Wesley
Come, every joyful heart,
That loves the Saviour’s name!
Your noblest powers exert,
To celebrate His fame;
Tell all above, and all below,
The debt of love to Him we owe,
He left His starry crown,
And laid His robes aside;
On wings of love came down,
And wept, and bled, and died;
What He endured no tongue can tell,
To save our souls from death and hell.
From the dark grave He rose-
The mansion of the dead;
And thence His mighty foes
In glorious triumph led;
Up thro’ the sky the Conqueror rode,
And reigns on high the Saviour God.
From thence, He’ll quickly come-
His chariot will not stay-
And bear our spirits home
To realms of endless day;
There shall we see His lovely face,
And ever be in His embrace.
Samuel Stennet
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