Burial Hymn

Brother, thou art gone before us,
And thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wip’d from every eye,
And sorrow is unknown.
From the burden of the flesh,
And from care and sin releas’d,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou’st travell’d o’er,
And hast borne the heavy load;
But Christ hath taught thy wandering feet
To reach his bless’d abode;
Thou’rt sleeping now, like Lazarus,
On his Father’s faithful breast,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

Sin can never taint thee now,
Nor can doubt thy faith assail;
Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ
And the Holy Spirit fail;
And there thou’rt sure to meet the good,
Whom on earth thou lovest best,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

“Earth to earth,” and “dust to dust.”
Thus the solemn priest hath said;
So we lay the turf above thee now,
And seal thy narrow bed:
But thy spirit, brother, soars away
Among the faithful blest,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.