89 Easter Even.
And Joseph wrapped the body in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock.
From the Gospel. [Matt. 27:59-60]
6,6,11,6,6,11
Su ruhest du, o meine Ruh
Salomo Franck (1659-1725). 1711.
trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1855
Rest of the weary! Thou Thyself art resting now, Where lowly in Thy sepulchre Thou liest: From out her deathly sleep My soul doth start, to weep So sad a wonder, that Thou Saviour diest! | Thy bitter anguish o'er, To this dark tomb they bore Thee, Life of Life--Thee, Lord of all creation! The hollow rocky cave Must serve Thee for a grave, Who wast Thyself the Rock of our Salvation! | O Prince of Life! I know That when I too lie low, Thou wilt at last my soul from death awaken; And thus I will not shrink From the grave's awful brink; The heart that trusts in Thee shall ne'er be shaken. | To me the darksome tomb Is but a narrow room, Where I may rest in peace from sorrow free; Thy death shall give me power To cry in that dark hour, O Death, O Grave, where is your victory? | The grave can nought destroy, Only the flesh can die, And e'en the body triumphs o'er decay: Clothed by Thy wondrous might In robes of dazzling light, This flesh shall burst the grave at that last Day. | 90 My Jesus, day by day, Help me to watch and pray, Beside the tomb where in my heart Thou'rt laid. Thy bitter death shall be My constant memory, My guide at last into Death's awful shade. | |