1 Why do we mourn departing Friends?
Or shake at Death's Alarms?
'Tis but the Voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his Arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as Time can move?
Nor should we wish the Hours more slow
To keep us from our Love.

3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their Bodies to the Tomb?
There the dear Flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long Perfume.

4 The Graves of all his Saints he blest,
And soften'd every Bed:
Where should the dying Members rest,
But with the dying Head?

5 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And shew'd our Feet the Way:
Up to the Lord our Flesh shall fly,
At the great Rising Day.

6 Then let the last loud Trumpet sound,
And bid our Kindred rise;
Awake, ye Nations under Ground,
Ye Saints, ascend the Skies.