Rest for the toiling hand,

Rest for the anxious brow,

Rest for the weary, way-worn feet,

Rest from all labor now;

2 Soon shall the trump of God

Give out the welcome sound

That shakes thy silent chamber-walls,

And breaks the turf-sealed ground.

3 Ye dwellers in the dust,

Awake! come forth and sing;

Sharp has your frost of winter been,

But bright shall be your spring.

4 ’Twas sown in weakness here;

’Twill then be raised in power:

That which was sown an earthly seed,

Shall rise a heavenly flower.