By Jesus’ Grave on Either Hand

By Je­sus’ grave on ei­ther hand

While night is brood­ing o’er the land

The sad and si­lent mourn­ers stand.

At last the wea­ry life is o’er

The ag­ony and con­flict sore

Of Him who all our suf­fer­ings bore.

Deep in the rock’s se­pul­chral shade

The Lord

by whom the worlds were made

The Sav­ior of man­kind

is laid.

O hearts be­reaved and sore dis­tressed

Here is for you a place of rest;

Here leave your grief on Je­sus’ breast.