When, downward, to the darksome tomb,

I thoughtful turn my eyes,

Frail nature trembles at the gloom,

And anxious fears arise.

2 Why shrinks my soul? in death’s embrace

Once Jesus captive slept;

And angels hovering o’er the place,

His lowly pillow kept.

3 Thus shall they guard my sleeping dust,

And, as the Saviour rose,

The grave again shall yield her trust,

And end my deep repose.

4 My Lord, before to glory gone,

Shall bid me come away;

And calm and bright shall break the dawn

Of heaven’s eternal day.

5 Then let my faith each fear dispel,

And gild with light the grave;

To him my loftiest praises swell,

Who died from death to save.