596 O how blest are ye whose toils are ended!

1 O how blest are ye whose toils are ended! Who, through death, have unto God ascended! Ye have arisen From the cares which keep us still in prison. 2 We are still as in a dungeon living, Still oppressed with sorrow and misgiving; Our undertakings Are but toils and troubles and heart-breakings. 3 Ye, meanwhile, are in your chambers sleeping, Quiet, and set free from all your weeping; No cross or sadness There can hinder your untroubled gladness. 4 Christ has wiped away your tears forever; Ye have that for which we still endeavor. To you are chanted Songs that ne'er to mortal ears were granted. 5 Ah! who would then not depart with gladness, To inherit heaven for earthly sadness? Who here would languish Longer in bewailing and in anguish? 6 Come, O Christ, and loose the chains that bind us! Lead us forth, and cast this world behind us! With Thee, th' Anointed, Finds the soul its joy and rest appointed.