He sleeps in Jesusópeaceful restó
No mortal strife invades his breast;
No pain, nor sin, nor woe, nor care,
Can reach the silent slumberer there.
He lived his Saviour to adore,
And meekly all his sufferings bore:
He loved, and all resigned to God,
Nor murmured at His chastening rod.
"Does earth attract thee here?" they cried;
The dying Christian thus replied,
While pointing upward to the sky,
"My treasure is laid up on high."
He sleeps in Jesusósoon to rise,
When the last trump shall rend the skies;
Then burst the fetters of the tomb,
To wake in full, immortal bloom.
He sleeps in Jesusócease thy grief;
Let this afford thee sweet relief,
That, freed from death's triumphant reign,
In heaven he will live again.