1. Pain and toil are over now;
Bring the spice and being the myrrh;
Fold the limb and bind the brow
In the rich man's sepulchre;
Far within the garden gloom,
Leave him in his new-made tomb.

2. Sin has bruised the Victor's heel;
Roll the stone and guard it well;
Bring the Roman's dreaded seal;
Bring his staunchest sentinel;
Death and Hell shall hold their prey
Only till tomorrow's ray.

3. Doubt ye how corruption cold
Has not pow'r to chain its God,
How the chill grave cannot hold
Him beneath its silent sod,
Prest with heavy measured tread?
Thus you watch the buried dead.

4. We, till breaks the morning light,
With an earnest purpose come,
Watching all this solemn night
By our Savior’s lowly tomb,
Thinking we are buried too;
We must live with him anew.

5. In the fresh baptismal tide,
When our early walk was dim,
When our evil nature died,
We were buried deep with him;
We must live like souls new-born,
Eager for a brighter morn.