AT length the worst is o’er, and Thou art laid | |
| Deep in Thy darksome bed: | |
| All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone | |
| Thy sacred form is gone; | |
| Around those lips where power and mercy hung, | 5 |
| The dews of death have clung; | |
| The dull earth o’er Thee, and Thy foes around, | |
| Thou sleep’st a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound. | |
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| Sleep’st Thou indeed? or is Thy spirit fled, | |
| At large among the dead? | 10 |
| Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice | |
| Wake Abraham to rejoice, | |
| Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls | |
| The thronging band of souls; | |
| That, as Thy blood won earth, Thine agony | 15 |
| Might set the shadowy realm from sin and sorrow free. | |
| |
| Where’er Thou roam’st, one happy soul, we know, | |
| Seen at Thy side in woe 1 | |
| Waits on Thy triumph—even as all the blest | |
| With him and Thee shall rest. | 20 |
| Each on his cross, by Thee we hang a while, | |
| Watching Thy patient smile, | |
| Till we have learned to say, “’Tis justly done, | |
| Only in glory, Lord, Thy sinful servant own.” | |
| |
| Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower | 25 |
| To rest one little hour, | |
| Till thine elect are numbered, and the grave | |
| Call Thee to come and save: | |
| Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend, | |
| Again with earth to blend, | 30 |
| Earth all refin’d with bright supernal fires, | |
| Tinctur’d with holy blood, and wing’d with pure desires. | |
| |
| Meanwhile with every son and saint of Thine | |
| Along the glorious line, | |
| Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet | 35 |
| We’ll hold communion sweet, | |
| Know them by look and voice, and thank them all | |
| For helping us in thrall, | |
| For words of hope, and bright examples given | |
| To show through moonless skies that there is light in heaven. | 40 |
| |
| O come that day, when in this restless heart | |
| Earth shall resign her part, | |
| When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall rest, | |
| My soul with Thee be blest! | |
| But stay, presumptuous—Christ with thee abides | 45 |
| In the rock’s dreary sides: | |
| He from the stone will wring celestial dew | |
| If but the prisoner’s heart be faithful found and true. | |
| |
| When tears are spent, and thou art left alone | |
| With ghosts of blessings gone, | 50 |
| Think thou art taken from the Cross, and laid | |
| In Jesus’ burial shade; | |
| Take Moses’ rod, the rod of prayer, and call | |
| Out of the rocky wall | |
| The fount of holy blood: and lift on high | 55 |
| Thy grovelling soul that feels so desolate and dry. | |
| |
| Prisoner of Hope thou art 2—look up and sing | |
| In hope of promis’d spring. | |
| As in the pit his father’s darling lay | |
| Beside the desert way | 60 |
| And knew not how, but knew his God would save | |
| E’en from that living grave, | |
| So buried with our Lord, will close our eyes | |
| To the decaying world, till Angels bid us rise. | |
