Blessed Are The Dead Who Die In The Lord Poem by John Bowring

Blessed, blessed are the dead
In the Lord who die-
Rest the pillow of their head
While they slumb'ring lie:
All their earthly labours done,
Stilled each mortal pain,
Till the Lord, th'Almighty One,
Calls them forth again.


Blessed, blessed are the dead
In the Lord who die;
Radiant is the path they tread
Upwards to the sky.
All the deeds of virtue done,
Deeds of peace and love,
Now are stars of glory strown,
Lighting them above.