On the re­sur­rect­ion morn­ing,
Soul and bo­dy meet again,
No more sor­row, no more weep­ing,
No more pain.

Here awhile they must be part­ed,
And the flesh its Sab­bath keep,
Waiting in a ho­ly still­ness,
Wrapped in sleep.

For a while the wea­ried bo­dy
Lies with feet to­ward the morn;
Till the last and bright­est East­er
Day be born.

But the soul in con­tem­pla­tion,
Utters ear­nest pray­er and strong,
Bursting at the re­sur­rect­ion
Into song.

Soul and bo­dy re­unit­ed
Thenceforth no­thing shall divide,
Waking up in Christ’s own like­ness
Satisfied.

O the beau­ty, O the glad­ness
Of that re­sur­rect­ion day,
Which shall not through end­less ag­es
Pass away!

On that hap­py East­er morn­ing
All the graves their dead re­store,
Father, mo­ther, sis­ter, bro­ther,
Meet once more.

To that bright­est of all meet­ings
Bring us, Je­sus Christ, at last,
By Thy cross, through death and judg­ment,
Holding fast.