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THE OLD CHURCH-YARD

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 8, 1872

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 40, No. 17.

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THE OLD CHURCH-YARD.

By J. F. Hovey

O, COME COME with me to the old church-yard, For I well know the path through the soft green-sward, Our friends slumber there we were wont to regard We can trace out their names in the old church-yard.
O, mourn not for them, their grief is all o'er; O, weep not for them! for they weep no more, For deep is their sleep, though now cold and hard Their pillow may be in the old church-yard.
I know it seems hard when friends depart, To tear them away from a broken heart; I know that the joys of life seem marred, When we follow our friends to the old church-yard.
But were I at rest beneath yon tree, Why should you weep, dear friends, for me? I am wayworn and sad, only then you regard, The rest that I seek is in the old church-yard.
Our friends linger there in the sweetest repose, Released from the world's sad bereavements and woes. Oh! who would not rest with the friends they regard In quietude sweet, in the old church-yard.
We'll rest in the hope of that glorious day, When beauty shall spring from the prison of clay; When Gabriel's voice and the trump of the Lord, Shall awaken the dead from the old church-yard.
O, weep not for me; I am anxious to go To that haven of rest where tears never flow. I fear not to enter that dark, lonely ward, For soon shall I rise from the old church-yard.
Yes, soon shall I join in that heavenly band Of glorified ones at my Saviour's right hand, Forever to dwell in bright mansions prepared For the saints who shall rise from the old church-yard. J. F. HOVEY.