1 O! blest are they that mourn,
Their comfort will I be;
For sorrows deep I oft have borne,
With none to comfort me.

2 I've stood beside the grave,
I weep with those that weep
For I have felt death's chilling wave,
And crossed its waters deep.

3 I have the keys of death,
To me they have been given;
I'll call again the fleeting breath,
When portals dark are riven.

4 How blessed here to mourn,
And there be comforted
When Christ shall call again his own,
And bring them from the dead!