1 HARK! a voice divides the sky,
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.
2 Followed by their works, they go
Where their Head hath 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.
3 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!"
4 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."
5 Angels catch the approving sound,
Bow, and bless the just award;
Hail the heir with glory crowned,
Now rejoicing with his Lord:
Fuller joys ordained to know,
Waiting for the general doom,
When the archangel's trump shall blow,
"Rise, ye dead, to judgment come!"