Classic Poem

Blessed are they that mourn my life is theirs
The life I led on earth they too shall lead
Its joy and sorrows and its weight of cares
Shall all be theirs for in my name they bleed
Happy their lot for so I bid them grow
And finish here the work my Father gave
And when the weary day its end shall know
They shall through me rejoice them o'er the grave
Happy their death for they shall live again
When I in triumph come to claim the few
Who in my name the cross within have worn
And by their toils have found me just and true
Happy thrice happy those who seek my face
They shall not want for they shall find my grace.