Oh come, come with me to the old church yard
I well know the path thro' the soft green sward
Friends slumber there, we were won't to regard
We'll trace out their names, in the old church yard
Oh, mourn not for them, their grief is o'er
Weep not for them, they weep no more
For deep is their sleep, tho' cold and hard
Their pillows may be in the old church yard
I know it seems vain, when friends depart
To breath kind words to the broken heart
I know that the joys of life seem marred
When we follow our friends to the old church yard
But were I at rest, beneath yon tree
Why should you weep, dear friends, for me?
I'm wayworn and sad, o, why then retard
The rest that I seek in the old church yard
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Oh, weep not for me, I am anxious to go
To that haven of rest were tears never flow
I fear not to enter that dark lonely ward
For soon shall I rise from the old church yard
Yes, soon shall I join that heavenly band
Of glorified souls at my ssaviors right hand
Forever to dwell in bright mansions prepared
For saints, who shall rise from the old church yard
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