Come, come with me to the old churchyard
I so well know those paths 'neath the soft green sward
Friends slumber in there that we want to regard
We will trace out their names in the old churchyard
Mourn not for them, for their trials are o'er
And why weep for those who will weep no more?
For sweet is their sleep, though cold and hard
Their pillows may be in the old churchyard
I know it seems vain when our friends depart
To breathe kind words to a broken heart
And I know that the joy of life is marred
When we follow lost friends to the old churchyard
But were I at rest 'neath yonder tree
Oh why would you weep, my friends, for me?
I'm so weary, so wayworn, why would you retard
The peace I seek in the old churchyard?
Why weep for me, for I'm anxious to go
To that haven of rest where no tears ever flow
And I fear not to enter the dark, lonely vault
For soon I shall rise from the old churchyard
I rest in the hope that one bright day
Sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay
And old Gabriel's trumpet and the voice of the Lord
Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard
I rest in the hope that one bright day
Sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay
And old Gabriel's trumpet and the voice of the Lord
Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard
