Now with the dust that bore him he is one, 
Silent, into into earth's silent maw ye laid him. 
Dimmed is his light, as with the setting sun, 
He folds his steps unto the God who made him. 
When shall the weak stand and rejoice again 
To see his banner in the battle's light? 
When shall the humble hear his voice again 
Raised from the mountain of majestic right? 
O ye shall see that banner gleam again 
High o'er the ramparts of a nation's goal; 
O ye shall hear that voice redeem again 
The blood-stained conscience of a nation's soul. 
Rise ye that tremble 'mid such fearful moan, 
He stands annointed at Jehovah's throne.