In the tomb, be­hold He lies
Who the dead awak­eth.
Christ, our strick­en sac­ri­fice,
Of sweet rest par­tak­eth.
Fear we then no more the gloom
Of death’s nar­row dwell­ing:
Jesus died! the won­der­ing tomb
Of His praise is tell­ing.

Vainly shall His foes re­joice;
Vainly death de­tain Him:
Lazarus heard His migh­ty voice;
What shall then re­strain Him?
What shall bind His con­quer­ing arm,
Who the mount­ains rend­eth?
Who, that He may death dis­arm,
To the tomb des­cend­eth?