Silently, silently
Sleep the peaceful dead;
Mournfully, sighingly,
Tears o’er them are shed.
Though the dust to dust returneth
Yet their spirits now have gone
To the God of love, who giveth;
And their works do follow on.

Silently to rest we lay them,
Empty is their house of clay;
Unto God the soul returneth,
Silently to pass away.

Silently, silently
They are laid to rest,
Free from care, over there,
Dwelling with the blest.
They shall bear no more life’s burdens,
Sickness, sorrow, death, or pain;
In that spirit-land they’re waiting,
Where with Christ their souls shall reign.

Silently, silently
Crossing o’er the tide,
Hopefully, peacefully,
Gone where saints abide.
Cease thy sorrow and thy weeping;
Brush away the falling tears:
They’re not in the cold grave sleeping,
But they live in endless years.

Silently, silently
We await His call,
When we’ll rise to the skies,
Victors over all.
In sweet paradise we’ll meet them,
On the morn when Christ shall come
To awaken every nation,
And to take the ransomed home.

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