I’ve laid the earth above the child
Whose life was but a summer’s day;
I knew that God, in mercy mild,
Had called his happy soul away.
Then therefore weep
O’er those who sleep?
Their precious dust the Lord will keep,
Till He appear
In glory here,
The harvest of the earth to reap.
I’ve laid the earth above the youth
Whose early days to God were given,
Whose end bore witness to this truth,
None die too soon who live for Heaven!
Then wherefore weep
O’er those who sleep?
Their precious dust the Lord will keep,
Till He appear
In glory here,
The harvest of the earth to reap.
I’ve laid the earth o’er reverend age,
Whose hoary hairs were glory’s crown,
The saint had closed his pilgrimage,
And gently laid life’s burden down.
Then wherefore weep
O’er those who sleep?
Their precious dust the Lord will keep,
Till He appear
In glory here,
The harvest of the earth to reap.
And soon the earth will close o’er me,
Yet mourn I not my life’s decline,
Lord! pardoned—ransomed—saved by Thee,
Living or dying—I am Thine!
Oh! wherefore sigh
For those who die
In Christ? the forms that mouldering lie
Shall burst the sod
To meet their God.
And mount with seraph wings on high!