"The choir is singing the matin song,
The doors of the church are opened wide,
The people crowd, and press and throng,
To see the bridegroom and the bride.
They enter and pass along the nave;
They stand upon the father's grave;
The bells are ringing soft and slow;
The living above and the dead below
Give their blessing on one and twain;
The warm wind blows from the hills of Spain,