But not the burial cave could chain Nor could that crowned brow remain Through sealed tomb and silent clay He came his chosen few to cheer, To lead their sorrow from the tomb, And we too, though the body dies, With these same breathing forms shall rise, Though scattered far o'er wave and plain, This dust of ours shall live again. Redeemer! when our forms shall be May then our lot be cast with Thee! Death's chain 'twas thine this day to break, THE CHILD OF HOPE. HE was the child of Hope, Each wonder science taught, |