And now, be­lov­èd Lord,
Thy soul re­sign­ing,
Into Thy Fa­ther’s arms
With con­scious will,
Calmly, with re­ve­rend grace,
Thy head in­clin­ing,
The throb­bing brow
And la­bor­ing breast grow still.

Freely Thy life
Thou yields, meek­ly bend­ing
E’en to the last
Beneath our sor­rows’ load,
Yet strong in death,
In per­fect peace com­mend­ing,
Thy Spir­it to
Thy Fa­ther and Thy God.

My Sav­ior, in mine hour
Of mor­tal anguish,
When earth grows dim,
And round me falls the night,
O breathe Thy peace,
As flesh and spir­it lang­uish,
At that dread ev­en­tide
Let there be light.

To Thy dear cross
Turn Thou my eyes in dy­ing;
Lay but my faint­ing
Head up­on Thy breast;
Those out­stretched arms
Receive my lat­est sigh­ing;
And then, oh! then,
Thine ev­er­last­ing rest.

O love! o’er mor­tal
Agony vic­to­ri­ous,
Now is Thy tri­umph!
Now that cross shall shine
To earth’s re­mot­est age
Revered and glo­ri­ous,
Of suf­fer­ing’s deep­est
Mystery the sign.

The pre­sent, past
And fu­ture here are blend­ing,
Moment su­preme
In this world’s his­to­ry,
Mid dark­ness, op­en­ing
Graves, and mount­ains rend­ing,
New light is dawn­ing
On hu­ma­ni­ty.