I

Lo, He is dead! The suffering Christ is dead;

Closed are His eyes, and bowèd is His head.

II

Dead, too, in shame! Upon a Cross! and see,

Thorns crown His brow, in stinging mockery.

III

O night, and woe! The sun and stars are gone;

Dark is the world, and hope, despairing, flown.

IV

Art Thou not Christ? the Son of God, art Thou?

How then this death? This awful silence, how?

V

O sin and death, and victory of the grave!

Canst Thou, in death, O Christ, Thy people save?

VI

Weep in the night, O mortals, at the grave;

Dead is the Christ, and dead He cannot save.