And laid the good man’s ashes there,
Ye shall kneel round about the dead
And wait upon your God in prayer.
What though no reverend man be near,
No solemn anthem with its breath,
No holy walls invest his bier
With all the hallowed pomp of death;
“Yet humble minds shall find the grace,
Devoutly bowed upon the sod,
Which calls a blessing round the place,