1 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 The graves of all his saints he blessed,
And softened every bed:
Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?
3 Thence he arose, ascending higher,
And showed our feet the way:
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising-day.
4 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies.