Beautiful beings, transcendent in brightness,
God’s holy messengers, wait for his word,
To visit the sick and to comfort the dying,
Bringing good cheer and joy in the Lord.
Thus, with the visions of heaven unfolded,
The dying one speaks of the glories made known,
While fond waiting friends catch the accents of heaven,
And then, when the spirit forever has flown,
They think that their loved one has gone straight to heaven,
Entered at once on his final reward,
Forgetting the Scriptures to us mortals given,
That death is a sleep—we awake at his word.
Like as a child falls asleep in the evening,
Listing its mother’s last sweet lullaby,
Then it awakes at her voice in the morning,
Thus shall we wake—for thus Christians die.