Brother, thou art gone before us, and thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wiped from every eye, and sorrow is unknown.
From the burden of the flesh, and from care and fear released,
Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest,
The wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, and borne the heavy load,
But Christ hath taught thy languid feet to reach his blest abode.
Thou'rt sleeping now like Lazarus upon his Father's breast,
Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest,
The wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

"Earth to earth and dust to dust," the solemn priest hath said.
So we lay the turf above thee now and seal thy narrow bed.
But thy spirit, brother, soars, soars away, among the faithful blest
Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest,

And when the Lord shall summon us whom thou hast left behind,
May we, untainted by the world, as sure a welcome find.
May each, like thee, depart in peace to be a glorious guest,
Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest,
The wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest,
The weary are at rest.

Brother, thou slumberest silent as yon stars;
And silent as the falling dews around thee,
We leave thy verdant grave.
Hold we all prepar'd,
Like him before whose hallowed grave we stand,
To give the last and awful testimony
To Christ our Lord.
Hark! hark! they are behind us.
They come to drag us to the judgment hall.
Pale lights are gleaming through the dusky night,
And hurrying feet are trampling to and fro.
Disperse, disperse, my brethren to your homes.
Farewell! we meet, if not on earth, in heaven.

Yet once again I touch thy golden strings,
My silent and forgotten lyre!
I too, like thee, was hallowed to an impious service,
Even till a touch from heaven waked my soul's music,
And poured it forth in ecstasy to Him who died for men.

And shall not thou, my partner
In mine unholy worship, mingle now
Thy sweetness with my purer vows?
Oh! fountain of sounds delicious,
Shall I not unseal thee!
Dwell not within thy secret wreathed shell
Sounds full of chaste and holy melancholy?
Even sounds accordant to the weary steps of Him,
That loaded with the ponderous Cross,
Toiled up the steep of Calvary.

For thou didst die for me, O Son of God!
By thee the throbbing flesh of man was worn;
Thy naked feet the thorns of sorrow trod,
And tempests beat thy houseless head forlorn.
Thou that wert wont to stand
Alone on God's right hand,
Before the ages were, the Eternal eldest born.

Low bowed thy head convuls'd and droop'd in death,
Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry:
Slow struggled from thy breast the parting breath,
And every limb was wrung with agony.
That head whose veilless blaze
Filled angels with amaze:
When at that voice sprang forth the rolling suns on high.

For us, for us thou didst endure the pain,
And thy meek spirit bowed itself to shame,
To wash our souls from sin's infecting stain,
T'avert the Father's wrathful vengeance flame;
Thou that could'st nothing win
By saving worlds from sin,
Nor aught of glory add to thy glorious name.

Thou that could'st nothing win
By saving worlds from sin,
Nor aught of glory add to thy glorious name.

My own, my loved, my beauteous child!
Once more thou art thyself.

How to unbarb the dart
Which I must strike into his inmost soul?
Oh, heaven, have mercy on him in thy mercy!
His love surpasses every love but thine.

Why dost thou tremble, child? The altar waits.

I cannot sacrifice!

Are mine ears false to me?
Darest thou deny thy God, thy father's God,
The God of Antioch?

No god is he, but mortal as thyself,
Withering before the all-enlightening Lamb,
Whose radiant throne shall quench all other fires.

Behold in yonder space thy King enthroned,
As God adored by man; by thee disowned.
See his eternal might,
And shade thy brow,
Is he not Life and Light?
What sayest thou?

To yonder orb I say, "Bridegroom gold-crowned,
Sent forth to cast thy ray on man earth-bound;
Thy golden lustre shed,
Shine thou on high,
Till time itself be dead,
Then shalt thou die.

Behold in yonder space
Thy King enthroned,
By thee disowned.

"Shine thou on high,
Till time itself be dead."