When, like the baseless fabric of a dream,

Earth’s unsubstantial glories pass away,

He then shall stand, acknowledged Lord supreme.

My blest Redeemer lives.—Though death the head

Consign, a victim to the silent tomb;

Though worms around my lifeless body spread,

Though noisome worms these mouldering limbs consume,

Triumphant still o’er Satan’s power I rise,

My God, my God appears, and wakes these languid eyes.

Samuel Hayes.