And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me: Write, Blsesed are the dead which die in the Lord, Yes, saith the Spirit, that they may Rest from their labors, And their works do follow them. Amen, amen, amne. Hark on the shore of Immanuel's Land, Shout the triumphant and glorified band Singing as only the ransomed can sing Sweet hallelujahs to Jesus their king. Amen, amen, amen. Farewell, we sigh, as our friends leave the strand "Welcome," they sing in Immanuel's Land Mourning below is rejoicing above We tell of sorrow while they sing of love. Amen, amen, amen. Lovingly called from his labors below Suddenly summoned but ready to go Laying the cross and the life burden down Gladly receiving the robe and the crown. Amen, amen, amen. Not without hope are we mourning today Thy will be done we are trying to say Here 'neath the shadowy rock we will rest God is our Father and His ways are best. Amen amen, amen.