Classic Poem

Break we up this sacred sod,
Build a temple to our God;
Place its sure foundations deep
In the dust of saints who sleep
Till the Resurrection day,
Calmly in their kindred clay.

On the aisles the names record,
Of those servants of the Lord,
Who, beneath these stones repose,
Vaulted safe from rains and snows;
No more light shall on them shine,
Till they see the light divine.

Solemn, sad will be the base
Of this consecrated place,
Telling mortals of their doom,
Of the dark and silent tomb;
Where, when life's brief journey's o'er,
We must rest till time's no more.

Here from “dust to dust” shall rise,
Spirits plumed for purer skies;
Prayers shall waft them like the wings
Of angels to celestial springs,
Bathed in whose eternal wave,
They shall triumph o'er the grave.