The tears are because we miss them already, I think, even if we know they're in heaven. They tell us not to cry, but surely they know better.
"No more to sigh, no more to weep,
The dead who die in Jesus sleep.
Unfading let their mem'rys bloom,
While rest their bodies in the tomb.
The Lord will not their love distrust,
Nor strow their garlands o'er their dust.
Though in the grave their clay is cold,
They have not left the Christian fold.
Still, we are bearers of their joy
Companions of their blest employ.
And thee in them oh Lord, Most High!
And them in thee we magnify.
An Angel sings that they are blest,
Yea! saith the spirit sweet their rest.
In bowers of paradise they meet,
Secure beneath their Saviors feet.
Nor fear the trump that soon shall all
Before the throne of judgement call."