Sadly we sing and with tremulous breath As we stand by the mystical stream In the valley and by the dark river of death And yet 'tis no more than a dream. Chorus: Only a dream, only a dream Of glory beyond the dark stream How peaceful the slumber, how happy the waking Where death is only a dream. Why should we weep when the weary ones rest In the bosom of Jesus supreme In the mansions of glory prepared for the blest For death is no more than a dream. Chorus: Naught in the river the Saints shall appall Tho' it frightfully dismal may seem In the arms of our Savior no ill can befall They find it no more than a dream. Over the turbid and on rushing tide Doth the light of eternity gleam And the ransomed the darkness and storm shall out ride To wake with glad smiles from their dream.