Sleep, thou dust and ashes, sleep;
When the trump shall wake the dead,
Pure immortal, thou shalt leap
From thy narrow, earthy bed;
Like an angel thou shalt fly,
Far above the starry sky.

Grant, Thou Triune Deity,
We, with him, may then arise,
Hear Thee in benignity
Bid us reign above the skies,
Strike our golden harps above,
In the bright abode of love.