Dark-green And Gemm'd With Flowers Of Snow,

When The Good Man Yields His Breath (for The Good Man Never Dies).

Yet Nightly Pitch My Moving Tent, A Day's March Nearer Home.

Songs Of Praise The Angels Sang, Heav'n With Alleluias Rang, When Creation Was Begun, When God Spoke And It Was Done.

There Is A World Above, Where Parting Is Unknown; A Whole Eternity Of Love, Form'd For The Good Alone; And Faith Beholds The Dying Here Translated To That Happier Sphere.

There Is A Calm For Those Who Weep, A Rest For Weary Pilgrims Found, They Softly Lie And Sweetly Sleep Low In The Ground.