Who will roll away the stone?
We are few and are alone,
Say the wo­men, sad and weak;
Who will give the help we seek?

Thus in whis­pers low they talk,
Sighing on their ear­ly walk,
Of the work that has been done
Ere the ris­ing of the sun.

Who will climb in­to the sky,
Bring re­demp­tion from on high?
Who will light the drea­ry grave,
And the dead and dy­ing save?

All is done that thou wouldst do;
All is fin­ished, soul, for you;
Life is born, and death is dead,
Day is shin­ing, night has fled.