You’ll see them in the morning,
When the Sun shines o’er the hill.
The ransomed hosts returning,
For `tis God’s unchanging will
That those dear familiar faces
Will refill the empty spaces, and praise
Will grace the voices that were still.

That bright and happy morning
All the prophets have foretold;
A glory so entrancing,
Every eye shall then behold,
When sounds of joy are pealing,
And broken hearts are healing, then love
Will cheer the voices that were still.

Now come, behold the foregleams
Of that grand and happy day,
When weeping, sorrow, dying,
Shall forever pass away,
Weep not for desolation
But rejoice in restoration, for the
Blossoms that will greet us in the Spring.

Oh, sweet and joyous Spring‑time!
What glories over‑spread,
As health and strength and beauty
Adorn the risen dead.
Then you’ll praise God most of all,
When you hear the welcome call of the
Dear and loving voices that were still.

Oh, the dear familiar faces!
Now thrice happy are the places with the
Music of the voices that were still.

W H Pepworth
Poems of the Way

Ezek.36:33‑38; Acts 3:19‑21; Isa.35