O! why should we bewail the dead,
Why sorrow o'er their narrow bed?
Have they not sought the happy shore,
Where human cares oppress no more?
Bewail them not!-more blest than we,
From mortal woes and anguish free,
Their parted spirits rest in peace,
In the still land, where troubles cease!
Bewail them not! their bright abode
Is with a Father and a God:
Freed from Corruption's cold embrace,
They see th' Almighty face to face.
Then weep not for the quiet dead,
Nor sorrow o'er their narrow bed;
In the still land, where troubles cease,
Their parted spirits rest in peace!