Now hush your cries, and shed no tear,
On such death none should look with fear;
He died a faithful Christian man,
And with his death true life began.

Coffin and grave we deck with care,
His body reverently we bear,
It is not dead but rests in God,
And softly sleeps beneath the sod.

It seems as all were over now,--
The heavy limbs, the soulless brow,--
Yet through these rigid limbs once more
A nobler life, ere long, shall pour.

These dead dry bones again shall feel
New warmth and vigour through them steal;
Reknit and living they shall soar
On high where Christ lives evermore.

This body, lying stiff and stark,
Shall rise unharmed from out the dark,
And swiftly mount up through the skies,
Even as the spirit heavenwards flies.

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The buried grain of wheat must die,
Withered and worthless long must lie,
Yet springs to light all sweet and fair,
And proper fruits shall richly bear:

Even so this body made of dust,
To earth we once again entrust,
And painless it shall slumber here,
Until the Last Great Day appear.

God breathed into this house of clay
The spirit that hath passed away,
Christ gave the true courageous mind,
The noble heart, ye no more find.

Now earth has hid it from our eyes,
Till God shall bid it wake and rise,
Who ne'er the creature will forget,
On whom His image He hath set.

Ah, would that promised Day were here,
When Christ shall once again appear;
When He shall call, nor one be lost,
To endless life earth's buried host!

Lyra Germanica: The Christian Year, 1861