WHY do we mourn departing friends,
   Or shake at death’s alarms?
’Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
    To call them to His arms.
2  Why should we tremble to convey
    Our dear ones to the tomb?
Where once our mighty Saviour lay
    To take away its gloom.
3  The grave of every saint is blest,
    A place of victory made,
A symbol of triumphant rest
    Where burdens are all laid.
4  Far from this world of toil and strife,
    They’re present with the Lord:
The labours of this mortal life
    End in a great reward.
5  Break from God’s throne, illustrious morn!
    Attend, O earth, God’s word!
When from the grave a glorious form
    Ascends to meet the Lord!
Cento from Isaac Watts, 1674-1748