It is a faith sublime and sure,

That ever round our head

Are hovering, on noiseless wing,

The spirits of the dead.

It is a faith sublime and sure,

When ended our career,

That it will be our ministry

To watch o’er others here;

To bid the mourners cease to mourn,

The trembling be forgiven,

To bear away from ills of clay

The deathless soul to heaven.