The Morning of Joy

Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’   ‘Where, O death, is your victory?   Where, O death, is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.

1 Corinthians 15:51-58

In The Morning of Joy

When the trumpet shall sound,

And the dead shall arise,

And the splendors immortal

Shall envelop the skies;

When the Angel of Death

Shall no longer destroy,

And the dead shall awaken

In the morning of joy:

In the morning of joy,

In the morning of joy,

We’ll be gathered to glory,

In the morning of joy;

In the morning of joy,

In the morning of joy,

We’ll be gathered to glory,

In the morning of joy.

When the King shall appear

In His beauty on high,

And shall summon His children

To the courts of the sky;

Shall the cause of the Lord

Have been all your employ,

That your soul may be spotless

In the morning of joy?

In the morning of joy,

In the morning of joy,

We’ll be gathered to glory,

In the morning of joy;

In the morning of joy,

In the morning of joy,

We’ll be gathered to glory,

In the morning of joy.

O the bliss of that morn,

When our loved ones we meet!

With the songs of the ransomed

We each other shall greet,

Singing praise to the Lamb,

Thro’ eternity’s years,

With the past all forgotten

With its sorrows and tears

In the morning of joy,

In the morning of joy,

We’ll be gathered to glory,

In the morning of joy;

In the morning of joy,

In the morning of joy,

We’ll be gathered to glory,

In the morning of joy.

I woke up Friday morning with this song in my head. As I sang it to myself, tears rolled down my face. This song was sang at my grandmama's funeral, and I often sang it when I was the song leader of my church. It brings me comfort, since I know that in that morning of joy, I will be reunited with my friend.

The above sculpture is called "Angel of Grief" and is an 1894 sculpture by William Wetmore Story which serves as the grave stone of the artist and his wife at the Protestant Cemetery, Rome.