The Old Churchyard

English folk music often contains some deeply spiritual material. Here is a reflective piece on the sorrow of death, yet urging the mourners to weep no more, trusting in Christ’s offer of resurrection. It was popular in early twentieth century American hymnals, though its tune and words sound distinctly English. You may hear the Watersons sing it here .

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.

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 Saviour has lain and conquered the gloom.

I rest in the hope that one bright day

Sunshine will burst to these prisons of clay,

And old Gabriel's trumpet and voice of the Lord

Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard.

The photos I took at Gigglewsick Parish Church, North Yorkshire