Did you say the wonderful trees are dead
Because their limbs are bare?
Did you say that all around is dead
Because no flowers are there?
Wait - till the soft warm breezes blow -
Wait for the sun and rain -
Here is a beautiful truth I know,
They all shall live again.
Did you say that the loved ones you have lost
Are dead beneath the sod?
They only sleep - they are not dead -
They wait for the 'Trump of God'.
They wait - till the Risen Redeemer
In glory shall cleave the skies,
At the sounding of the trumpet
The `dead in Christ' shall rise.
So when the buds are bursting
And blossoms wake with the Spring,
We remember in that 'morning'
We shall wake to meet our King.
Oh! Glorious morn! Oh! Glorious Lord!
We wait Thy coming, when
We put on 'immortality'
And rise to live again