The tomb of Christ is but the bed
He rested on three days.
Easter morn He rose again,
The flower of our spring.
On Him, arisen from the dead,
Must we, though flesh decays,
Bestow our faith that when we die
Our souls, like His, shall not long lie
Forsaken in our tomb.
Christ shall, with deep affection, when
He sees our soul's affliction, then
Redeem us with His pain.
In His eternal suffering
Shall we find grace enough to bring
The seed of faith to bloom.
