1 The mourners came, at break of day, Unto the garden sepulchre, With saddened hearts to weep and pray For him, the loved one, buried there. What radiant light dispels the gloom? An angel sits beside the tomb. 2 The earth doth mourn her treasures lost, All sepulchred beneath the snow, When wintry winds and chilling frost Have laid her summer glories low; The spring returns, the flow'rets bloom,-- An angel sits beside the tomb. 3 Then mourn we not beloved dead, E'en while we come to weep and pray; The happy spirit hath but fled To brighter realms of heavenly day; Immortal hope dispels the gloom;-- An angel sits beside the tomb. 348. 7 & 5s. M. Bowring. Blessed Are the Dead. 1 Blessed, blessed are the dead In the Lord who die; Radiant is the path they tread Upward to the sky. 2 All their deeds of virtue done, Deeds of peace and love, Now are stars of glory strewn, Lighting them above. 349. S. M. Bowring. O Death, Where Is Thy Sting? 1 Where is thy sting, O death? Grave! where thy victory? The clod may sleep in dust beneath, The spirit will be free! 2 Both man and time have power O'er suffering, dying men; But death arrives, and in that hour The soul is freed again. 3 Then, death, where is thy sting? And where thy victory, grave? O'er your dark bourn the soul will spring To Him who loves to save. 350. L. M. Mrs. Barbauld. His End is Peace. 1 How blest the righteous when he dies! When sinks a trusting soul to rest, How mildly beam the closing eyes, How gently heaves the expiring breast! 2 So fades a summer cloud away; So sinks the gale when storms are o'er; So gently shuts the eye of day; So dies a wave along the shore. 3 A holy quiet reigns around, A calm which life nor death destroys; And naught disturbs that peace profound Which his unfettered soul enjoys. 4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears, Where lights and shades alternate dwell! How bright the unchanging morn appears! Farewell, inconstant world, farewell! 5 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay, Light from its load the spirit flies; While guardian angels gently say, "How blest the righteous when he dies!" 351. S. M. *Mrs. Howitt. He is Risen. 1 O spirit, freed from earth, Rejoice, thy work is done! The weary world's beneath thy feet, Thou brighter than the sun! 2 Arise, put on the robes That the redeemed win; Now sorrow hath no part in thee, Thou sanctified within!