1 It is a faith sublime and sure,
That ever round our head
Are hovering, on noiseless wing,
The spirits of the dead.
2 It is a faith sublime and sure,
When ended our career,
That it will be our ministry
To watch o'er others here;
3 To bid the mourners cease to mourn,
The trembling be forgiven,
To bear away from ills of clay
The deathless soul to heaven.