Wrapt in a Christless shroud,
He sleeps the Christless sleep;
Above him the eternal cloud,
Beneath—the fiery deep.
Laid in a Christless grave,
There, bound with felon's chain,
He waits the terror of his doom,
The judgment and the pain.
A Christless shroud, how cold!
How dark a Christless tomb!
Oh, grief that never can grow old!
Oh, endless, hopeless doom!
A Christless sleep, how sad!
What waking shalt thou know?
For thee no star, no dawning glad;
Only the lasting woe.
To rocks and hills in vain
Shall be the sinner's call;
Oh, day of wrath, and death, and pain:
'Tis the lost soul's funeral.
Oh, Christless soul, awake
Ere thy last sleep begin!
O Christ, the sleeper's slumbers break;
Burst Thou the bond of sin.
"Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."