Before Thy face Thy church shall live,
And on Thy throne Thy children reign:
This dying world shall they survive,
And the dead saints be raised again.
And when some form more than ordinarily venerable or beautiful, holy or beloved, has been lowered into its resting-place, while they laid wreaths of camellias and evergreens on the coffin, uprose that wonderful elegy:
Hear what the Voice from heaven proclaims
For all the pious dead!
Sweet is the savour of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.
And how often, in similar circumstances, that other sweet requiem: