1 O how blest are ye whose toils are ended!
Who thro' death have unto God ascended!
Ye have arisen
From the cares which keep us still in prison.

2 Christ has wiped away your tears forever;
Ye have that for which we still endeavor;
To you are chanted
Songs that ne'er to mortal ears were granted.

3 Ah, who would, then, not depart with gladness,
To inherit heav'n for earthly sadness?
Who here would languish
Longer in bewailing and in anguish?

4 Come, 0 Christ, and loose the chains that bind us,
Lead us forth and cast this world behind us!
With Thee, th'Anointed,
Finds the soul its joy and rest appointed.