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.
