The mourn­ers came at break of day;
Unto the gar­den se­pul­cher;
With dark­ened hearts to weep and pray,
For Him, the loved one bur­ied there.
What ra­di­ant light dis­pels the gloom?
An an­gel sits be­side the tomb.

The earth doth mourn her trea­sures lost,
All se­pul­chered be­neath the snow;
When win­try winds, and chill­ing frost,
Have laid her sum­mer glo­ries low:
The spring re­turns, the flow­er­ets bloom—
An an­gel sits be­side the tomb.

Then mourn we not be­lov­èd dead,
E’en while we come to weep and pray;
The hap­py spi­rit far hath fled
To bright­er realms of end­less day:
Immortal hope dis­pels the gloom!
An ang­el sits be­side the tomb.