Classic Poem

The prophets and apostles lie buried in dust,
Beneath underground since the earth has been curst;
And there they must lie till the great rising day,
Till the loud sounding trumpet shall call them away.

Now rising and shining, all homeward they go,
Not a grief or a groan, from the regions of woe;
As bright as the noon, as clear as the morn,
Their bodies shall now the bright heavens adorn.