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1. When those we love are snatched away
By death's resistless hand,
Our hearts the mournful tribute pay
That friendship must demand.
2. While pity prompts the rising sigh,
With awful power imprest;
May this dread truth, "I too must die,"
Sink deep in ev'ry breast.
3. Let this vain world allure no more;
Behold the opening tomb;
It bids us use the present hour, —
To-morrow death may come.
4. The voice of this instructive scene
May ev'ry heart obey!
Nor be the faithful warning vain
Which calls to watch and pray.
5. O let us to that Saviour fly;
Whose arm alone can save;
Then shall our hopes ascend on high.
And triumph o^er the grave.