Awake, glad soul! awake! awake!
Thy Lord has risen long;
Go to His grave, and with thee take
Both tuneful heart and song.
Where life is waking all around,
Where love’s sweet voices sing,
The first bright blossom may be found
Of an eternal spring.
The shade and gloom of life are fled
This resurrection day;
Henceforth in Christ are no more dead,
The grave hath no more prey.
In Christ we live, in Christ we sleep,
In Christ we wake and rise,
And the sad tears death makes us weep,
He wipes from all our eyes.
And every bird and every tree,
And every opening flower,
Proclaim His glorious victory,
His resurrection power.
The folds are glad, the fields rejoice,
With vernal verdure spread,
The little hills lift up their voice
And shout that death is dead.
Then wake, glad heart! awake! awake
And seek Thy risen Lord;
Joy in His resurrection take,
And comfort in His Word.
And let thy life, through all its ways,
One long thanksgiving be:
Its theme of joy, its song of praise—
Christ died, and rose for me.
It is a strange but remarkable coincidence of my upbringing that I have been to hundreds of funerals. Growing up a Roman Catholic lad in a community where school and church were next to each other I ‘served on the altar’ as an altar boy, which included missing the first hour or so of school on a fairly regular basis to assist at funerals, as well as normal mass.
Funerals of old and young, strangers and people who I’d known (as much as children know adults in the wider community). There are a few that stand out in my memory – one of a child from my school, younger than me, who had been killed on electrical rail lines; a child who was a close neighbour who had died from a genetic condition; a large and elaborate funeral (standing room only) for a ‘pillar’ of the church and my own grandmother’s funeral.
They were all sad occasions – accompanied by the same handful of hymns (abide with me, the Lord’s my Shepherd – which will make an appearance on this blog at some point) – some, like funerals of other children, intractably sad. I’ve been to a fair few funerals since – family and friends; they too have been sad. But how does Christian hope make a marked effect in the life of those grieving.
Monsell’s hymn expresses and applies the reality of Christian hope in the face of the grave. Jesus’ death and resurrection transforms our graveyard experiences. We know that death is vanquished, emptied of power and Death itself, in Christ, has died.
But what of those who die without hope in Christ? Can we who live hoping in Christ grieve with such confidence? I want to say yes. See what Monsell makes clear? Christ will wipe all tears away – at the end of time, there will be the end of mourning and it will be done justly, gracefully and powerfully.
“But what about those I love?” His love for them is greater. “What about eternity away from the lost” His justice is what I hope in, what we hope in, and so we will not mourn the justice of God in judging and salvation; we will rejoice in it!
Every graveside, every funeral, reminds us who know the Lord Jesus, the Lord who was once dead and now Lives never to face death again, that one day He will return and empty graves and call to account and bring salvation and reveal the glory of the Living God! We weep here and now and in doing so we anticipate the ending of all tears!
For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be Lord both of the dead and of the living. Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God; for it is written, “As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God.” So then each of us will give an account of himself to God.
Romans 14:7-12
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