Into my soul of souls, and walk with Thee;
Yet not for these do I so much adore;
. . . . . . . But thou didst go.
Down to the very grave—like unto ours
Thy death-pang—thy effulgent limbs did lie
“In cold obstruction.” Oh! pitying soul of Man!
For this I praise thee—worship and bow down,
Sing with the evening stars and morning light.
When the great glory of the sun walks forth,
I shout the resurrection and new life;