From The Martyr of Antioch: Funeral Hymn

Brother I thou art gone before us,
And thy saintly soul is flown,
Where the tear is wiped away,
And the sigh of grief unknown;
From the burden of the flesh.
And from care and fear released,
Where the wicked cease from troubling
And the weary are at rest.

Thou hast trod the toilsome way,
Thou hast borne the heavy load;
But the Christ has taught thy feet
How to reach His blest abode;
Now thou sleep'st like Lazarus
Carried to his Father's breast;
Where the wicked cease from troubling.
And the weary are at rest.

Sin can never taint thee now,
Doubt, no more thy faith assail;
Nor thy trust in Jesus Christ
And the Holy Spirit fail:
There thou'rt sure to meet the good
Whom on earth thou loved 'st the best.
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.