| Song | The Angels That Watched Round |
| Album | The Christian Hymn Book |
| Genre | Traditional Christian Hymns |
| Writer(s) | A. Campbell And Others |
| Publisher / Copyrights | |
| Key | |
| Tags | The Angels That Watched Round |
| Theme(s) | Burial And Resurrection |
| Scripture Reference(s) | |
| CCLI Song No | |
| Buy Book/CD |  |
The Angels That Watched Round The Tomb
Where Low The Redeemer Was Laid,
When Deep In Mortality’s Gloom
He Hid For A Season His Head;
That Vailed Their Fair Face While He Slept,
And Ceased Their Sweet Harps To Employ,
Have Witnessed His Rising, And Swept
The Chords With The Triumphs Of Joy.
You Saints, Who Once Languished Below,
But Long Since Have Entered Your Rest,
I Pant To Be Glorified Too,
To Lean On Immanuel’s Breast.
The Grave In Which Jesus Was Laid
Has Buried My Guilt And My Fears;
And While I Contemplate Its Shade,
The Light Of His Presence Appears.
O Sweet Is The Season Of Rest,
When Life’s Weary Journey Is Done!
The Blush That Spreads Over Its West,
The Last Lingering Ray Of Its Sun!
Though Dreary The Empire Of Night,
I Soon Shall Emerge From Its Gloom,
And See Immortality’s Light
Arise On The Shades Of The Tomb.
Then Welcome The Last Rending Sighs,
When These Aching Heartstrings Shall Break,
When Death Shall Extinguish These Eyes,
And Moisten With Dew The Pale Cheek.
No Terror The Prospect Begets,
I Am Not Mortality’s Slave,
The Sunbeam Of Life As It Sets,
Paints A Rainbow Of Peace On The Grave.
