Death Is Only a Dream

Sadly we sing

and with trem­ulous breath

As we stand by the mys­tic­al stream

In the val­ley and by the dark riv­er of death

And yet ’tis no more than a dream.

Only a dream

on­ly a dream

And glo­ry be­yond the dark stream;

How peace­ful the slum­ber

How hap­py the wak­ing;

For death is on­ly a dream.

Why should we weep when the wea­ry ones rest

In the bo­som of Je­sus su­preme

In the man­sions of glo­ry pre­pared for the blest?

For death is no more than a dream.

Naught in the riv­er the saints should ap­pall

Tho’ it fright­ful­ly dis­mal may seem;

In the arms of their Sav­ior no ill can be­fall

They find it no more than a dream.

Over the tur­bid and on­rush­ing tide

Doth the light of eter­ni­ty gleam;

And the ran­somed the dark­ness

And storm shall out­ride

To wake with glad smiles from their dream.