Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower
  To rest one little hour,
  Till Thine elect are numbered, and the grave
  Call Thee to come and save:
  Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend
  Again with earth to blend,
  Earth all refined with bright supernal fires,
Tinctured with holy blood, and winged with pure desires.

  Meanwhile with every son and saint of Thine
  Along the glorious line,
  Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet
  We'll hold communion sweet,
  Know them by look and voice, and thank them all
  For helping us in thrall,
  For words of hope, and bright examples given
To show through moonless skies that there is light in Heaven.

  O come that day, when in this restless heart
  Earth shall resign her part,
  When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall rest,
  My soul with Thee be blest!
  But stay, presumptuous—CHRIST with Thee abides
  In the rock's dreary sides:
  He from this stone will wring Celestial dew
If but this prisoner's heart he faithful found and true.

  When tears are spent, and then art left alone
  With ghosts of blessings gone,
  Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid
  In JESUS' burial shade;
  Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call
  Out of the rocky wall
  The fount of holy blood; and lift on high
Thy grovelling soul that feels so desolate and dry.

  Prisoner of Hope thou art—look up and sing
  In hope of promised spring.
  As in the pit his father's darling lay
  Beside the desert way,
  And knew not how, but knew his GOD would save
  E'en from that living grave,
  So, buried with our LORD, we'll chose our eyes
To the decaying world, till Angels bid us rise.