Winter in his heart of gloom
Sings the song of coming bloom:
So o’er death our souls shall sing
Lays of the eter­nal spring.

Then decay shall be no more,
And, the weary seed time o’er,
All the dead in Christ shall rise
For the harvest of the skies.

Wheresoe’er the faithful sleep
Angels shall go forth to reap,
From the dust and ’neath the foam
They shall bring the harvest home.

Bodies of the saints, whose bones
Rest beneath sepulchral stones,
Or are lost on every wind,
All, those messengers shall find.

All from earth to Heav’n shall soar
In that flesh which once they wore,
Deathless now and glorified,
Like their Lord and at His side.

This is life’s eter­nal spring!
This the coming joy we sing!
Look we ever toward this day,
Be it near or far away!

’Mid the sorrow and the strife
’Tis the music of our life,
And the song hath this refrain—
Our Re­deem­er comes again!