Hear what the voice from Heaven proclaims

For all the pious dead,--

Sweet is the savour of their names,

And soft their sleeping bed.

Why should we tremble to convey

Their relics to the tomb?

There the Redeemer's body lay,

And left a long perfume.

The graves of all His saints He blest,

And soften'd every bed;

Where should the dying members rest,

But with the dying Head?