C. M.
Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.
Hear what the voice from heav'n proclaims,
For all the pious dead;
Sweet is the savor of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.
They die in Jesus, and are blest;
How kind their slumbers are!
From suff'rings and from sins released,
And freed from every snare.
Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;
The labors of their mortal life
End in a large reward.