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.