What! Is This the Only Rest?

What! Is this the on­ly rest

Earth af­fords her heav­en­ly guest?

For the Child she had no room

To the Man she gives—a tomb.

O

Thou wea­ry Man of Love

Here is stone around

above;

’Tis the dark world’s sto­ny heart

Enter

and ful­fill Thy part.

Tender lin­en swathes Thee round

And a nap­kin soft is bound

O’er Thy fea­tures sor­row-worn

And Thy brow so sharp­ly torn.

Such a day de­serves its night

O

sleep on and ga­ther might;

When it pleas­es Thee to wake

Tomb and world alike shall shake.