O hour of doom, of heart­felt gloom,
Why should there not be sigh­ing?
Soon shall God the Fa­ther’s Son
In the tomb be ly­ing.

Men’s sin­ful deed has made to bleed
This in­no­cent, the lowly,
Lest the wrath of right­eous­ness
Fall on heads un­ho­ly.

The Bride­groom see On Cal­va­ry,
O bride of Christ is bleed­ing;
On the altar-cross for thee
Hear Him in­ter­ced­ing!

The lips, whence sped life to the dead,
Silence now are keep­ing;
Let the crowd about the cross
Watch with wail and weep­ing.

O hap­py he who con­stant­ly
Thinks, with tears un­num­bered,
How the ve­ry Lord of lords
’Neath the death-pall slum­bered.

O Je­su blest, my hope, my rest!
Grant, with tears, I pray thee,
I may live and I may die
Yearning to ob­ey Thee!