Weep not; she is not dead, but sleepeth.@Luke 8:52
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Isaac Watts
(1674–1748)

Is­aac Watts, Mis­cel­la­ne­ous Thoughts in Prose and Verse 1734. A Fun­er­al Ode at the In­ter­ment of the Bo­dy, Sup­posed to Be Sung by Mourn­ers.

Dirge (Han­del), ar­ranged from George F. Han­del, in The Me­thod­ist Hym­nal (New York: Me­thod­ist Book Con­cern, 1905), num­ber 586 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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George F. Handel
(1685–1759)

Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb,
Take this new treasure to thy trust,
And give these sacred relics room
To seek a slumber in the dust;
And give these sacred relics room
To seek a slumber in the dust.

Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear
Invades thy bounds, no mortal woes,
Can reach the lovely sleeper here,
And angels watch her soft repose;
Can reach the lovely sleeper here,
And angels watch her soft repose.

So Jesus slept; God’s dying Son
Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed:
Rest here, fair saint, till from His throne
The morning break and pierce the shade;
Rest here, fair saint, till from His throne
The morning break and pierce the shade.

Break from His throne, illustrious morn!
Attend, O earth! His sovereign Word:
Restore thy trust: a glorious form
She must ascend to meet her Lord;
Restore thy trust: a glorious form
She must ascend to meet her Lord!