Are many long low graves;
And some have stones set over them,
On some the green grass waves.
Full many a little Christian child,
Woman, and man, lies there;
And we pass near them every time
When we go in to prayer.
They cannot hear our footsteps come,
They do not see us pass;
They cannot feel the warm bright sun
That shines upon the grass.
They do not hear when the great bell
Is ringing overhead;
They cannot rise and come to church
With us, for they are dead.
But we believe a day shall come
When all the dead will rise,
When they who sleep down in the grass,
Will ope again their eyes.
For Christ our Lord was buried once,
He died and rose again,
He conquered death, He left the grave;
And so will Christian men.
So when the friends we love the best
Lie in their churchyard bed,
We must not cry too bitterly
Over the happy dead;
Because, for our dear Savior’s sake,
Our sins are all forgiv’n;
And Christians only fall asleep
To wake again in Heav’n.
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