1 When I the holy grave survey,
Where once my Saviour deign'd to lie;
I see fulfil'd what prophets say,
And all the pow'r of death defy.

2 This empty tomb shall now proclaim
How weak the bands of conquer'd death:
Sweet pledge, that all who trust his name,
Shall rise, and draw immortal breath!

3 Our surety freed, declares us free,
For whose offences he was seiz'd:
In his release, our own we see,
And shout to view Jehovah pleas'd.

4 Jesus, once number'd with the dead,
Unseals his eyes to sleep no more;
And ever lives, their cause to plead,
For whom the pains of death he bore.

5 Thy risen Lord, my soul behold;
See the rich diadem he wears!
Thou too shalt bear an harp of gold,
To crown thy joy when he appears.

6 Tho' in the dust I lay my head,
Yet, gracious God, thou wilt not leave
My flesh forever with the dead,
Nor lose thy children in the grave.