Our last rites to receive at loving hands,
Who over our coffin wreathe their garlands
Of flowers, whose fragrance perfume
The air, while loving hearts with song attune,
The stillness to break in hymns of hope;
And the speaker in his talk to cope
With human grief and doubts and fears,
Says consoling words to dry up our tears.
When in our grave, made with pick and spade,
Our embalmed body is solemnly laid;