O grave thou canst no victory bring!
By Jesus, our Deliverer, freed,
No light of sun or moon we need.
His glory is the city’s light,
And with him there we’ve all a right.
Each bitter pang which here we bear,
Will be a gem of glory there.
Th’ eternal weight of glory, wrought
By suffering is not dearly bought.
Be cold indifference, grief or pain