And give these sacred relics room
To slumber in the silent dust.
No pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear
Invades thy bounds; no mortal woes
Can reach the lowly sleeper here,
While angels watch the soft repose.
So Jesus slept; God’s dying Son
Pass’d through the grave, and bless’d the bed:
Rest here, blest saint! till from his throne
The morning break, and pierce the shade.