Sleep within these heaps of stones;
Here they lie had realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands;
Where from their pulpits sealed with dust
They preach:—"In greatness is no trust."
Here's an acre sown indeed
With the richest royallest seed
That the Earth did e'er suck in
Since the first man died for sin:
Here the bones of birth have cried:—