1 Oh, how blest are they whose toils are ended,
Who through death have unto God ascended!
They 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 heartbreakings.

3 They meanwhile are in their chambers sleeping,
Quiet and set free from all our weeping;
No cross or sadness
There can hinder their untroubled gladness.

4 Christ has wiped away their tears forever;
They have that for which we still endeavor,
By them are chanted
Songs that ne'er to mortal ears were granted.

5 Come, 0 Christ, and loose the chains that bind us;
Lead us forth and cast this world behind us.
With You, the Anointed,
Finds the soul its joy and rest appointed.