There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found;
They safely lie and sweetly sleep,
Low in the ground, low in the ground.

The storms that sweep the wintry sky
No more disturb their deep repose,
Than summer evening�s latest sigh
That shuts the rose, that shuts the rose.

Thy soul renewed by grace divine,
In God�s own image, freed from clay,
In Heav�n�s eternal sphere shall shine,
A star of day, a star of day.