The Old Churchyard

Come, come with me out to the old churchyard

I so well know that paths 'neath the soft green sward

Friends slumber in there that we wants to regard

We will trace out their names in the old churchyard

Mourn not for them, their trials are o'er

And why weep for those who will weep no more?

For sweet is their sleep, though cold and hard

Their pillows may be in the old churchyard

And I know that it's vain when our friends depart

To breathe kind words to a broken heart

And I know that the joy of life it is marred

When we follow lost friends to the old churchyard

But were I at rest 'neath yonder tree

Oh, why would you weep, my friends, for me?

I'm so weary, so wayworn, why would you retard

The peace I seek in the old churchyard?

Why weep for me, for I'm anxious to go

To that haven of rest where no tears ever flow?

And I fear not to enter that dark lonely tomb

Where our Savior has lain and had conquered the gloom

And I rest in the hope that one bright day

Sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay

And old Gabriel's trumpet and the voice of the Lord

Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard