Our fathers! where are they,

With all they called their own?

Their joys and griefs, their hopes and cares,

Their wealth and honor, gone!

2 But joy or grief succeeds,

Beyond our mortal thought,

While still the remnant of their dust

Lies in the grave forgot.

3 God of our fathers, hear,

Thou everlasting Friend,

While we, as on life’s utmost verge,

Our souls to thee commend.