come come with me out to the old churchyard i so well know those paths neath the soft green sward friends slumber in there that we want to regard we will trace out their names in the old churchyard mourn not for them their trials are o er and why weep for those who will weep no more for sweet is their sleep though cold and hard their pillows may be in the old churchyard and i know that it s vain when our friends depart to breathe kind words to a broken heart and i know that the joy of life is marred when we follow lost friends to the old churchyard but were i at rest neath yonder tree oh why would you weep my friends for me i m so weary so wayworn why would you retard the peace i seek in the old churchyard why weep for me for i m anxious to go to that haven of rest where no tears ever flow and i fear not to enter that dark lonely tomb where our savior has lain and conquered the gloom i rest in the hope that one bright day sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay and old gabriel s trumpet and voice of the lord will wake up the dead in the old churchyard1