So bury me in wooded dale, beneath the sunny skies.
My body lies discarded there: until the dead arise.
My spirit bides – as Jesus said – with Him in paradise.
With Him I’ll wait ’til times are changed: until the dead arise.
Let flowers bloom about my feet to catch the first sunrise.
Their fragrant scent perfumes my grave: until the dead arise.
Let grow the oak above my corse, until its massive size
A sentinel above me stands: until the dead arise.
The final trumpet! Come – awake! New bodies are our guise.
We rise. We stand – on a new Earth to live immortal lives.