What world is this? Where am I brought,
Stript of my body, but my thought
More clear and vigorous than of late?
Is this the intervening state?

Eyes I have none, nor feet to steer,
Nor hands to feel, nor ears to hear:
Yet I can reason as before,
And trace my past existence o'er.

My weeping children, weeping wife,
Ye dearest cares in former life,
All intercourse with you is o'er;
The home I lov'd, knows me no more.

Cannot unbody'd souls combine,
And, speechless, in sweet converse join?
With mental vision, lo, I see
A vast rejoicing company.

These, surely, are the righteous band
Of souls, who sojourn in this land.
And is not this unknown abode,
Blest with the presence of my God?

Encumber'd now no more with clay,
I've cast its weaknesses away.
I feel my pow'rs of joy more strong
Than ever did to earth belong.

With raptur'd hope, I wait the morn
When to new life I shall be born
By that almighty voice, whose sound
Shall wake the dead and split the ground;

When I shall meet my Saviour-Lord
Coming to finish my reward;
When I shall join his holy train,
And mount to the celestial plain.