How blest the right­eous when he dies!
When sinks a wea­ry soul to rest,
How mild­ly beam the clos­ing eyes,
How gent­ly heaves th’ex­pir­ing breast!

So fades a sum­mer cloud away;
So sinks a gale when storms are o’er;
So gent­ly shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.

A ho­ly qui­et reigns around,
A calm which life nor death de­stroys;
And naught dis­turbs that peace pro­found
Which his un­fet­tered soul en­joys.

Farewell, con­flict­ing hopes and fears,
Where lights and shades al­ter­nate dwell;
How bright th’un­chang­ing morn ap­pears!
Farewell, in­con­stant world, far­ewell!

Life’s la­bor done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spir­it flies,
While Heav’n and earth com­bine to say,
How blest the right­eous when he dies!