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

   Of glory beyond the dark stream

   How peaceful the slumber, how happy the waking

   Where 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 blessed

For death is no more than a dream 



Naught in the river the Saints should appall

Though' it frightfully dismal may seem

In the arms of our 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 out ride

To wake with glad smiles from their dream