2.
“We are buried with Him by Baptism unto death.”
Where is Thy resting-place, Lord, after all
The sufferings of Thy Flesh so long and keen?
Where dost Thou keep Thy Sabbath all unseen?
Make Thou my heart as this sepulchral hall,
Though filled with recollections that appal;
Till from a sepulchre, by Thee made clean,
It shall become a temple all serene.
The World doth still against Thee press her call,
Some whisper grave and low, and mourning sigh,
And others loudly cry out, Crucify!
Yea, in each heart the Priests and multitude
Against Thee rise. With locks all dripping blood,
Where shalt Thou rest in the wide world forlorn,
But in the new-made breast of them that mourn?
