1 Hark! from afar a fune'ral knell
Moves on the breeze—its echoes swell
The chorus for the dead!
A consort's moans are in the sound.
And sobs of children weeping round
A parent's dying bed!

2 He's gone! his work on earth is gone,
His battle's fought, his race is run;
Blest is the path he trod.
For he espoused the glorious cause,
In prompt obedience to the laws
Of the eternal God.

3 He sleeps; his troubles here are o'er;
He sleeps where earthly ills no more
Will break the slumb'rer's rest
His dust is laid beneath the sod
His spirit has returned to God,
To mingle with the blest.