A grave, wherever found, preaches a short and pithy sermon to the soul.

A grave, wherever found, preaches a short and pithy sermon to the soul.

What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker mean'd not should be trod
By man, the read more

What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker mean'd not should be trod
By man, the image of his God,
Erect and free,
Unscourged by Superstition's rod.

For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house
appointed for all living.

For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house
appointed for all living.

The grave is still the best shelter against the storms of destiny.

The grave is still the best shelter against the storms of destiny.

The solitary, silent, solemn scene,
Where Caesars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie,
Blended in dust together; where the read more

The solitary, silent, solemn scene,
Where Caesars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie,
Blended in dust together; where the slave
Rests from his labors; where th' insulting proud
Resigns his powers; the miser drops his hoard:
Where human folly sleeps.

There is but one easy place in this world, and that is the grave.

There is but one easy place in this world, and that is the grave.

Here's an acre sown indeed,
With the richest royalest seed.

Here's an acre sown indeed,
With the richest royalest seed.

I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came read more

I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came to lie
At rest within the ground,
'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June
When brooks send up a cheerful tune,
And groves a joyous sound,
The sexton's hand, my grave to make,
The rich, green mountain-turf should break.

See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle,
Of hard, unmeaning face, down read more

See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle,
Of hard, unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole
A gentle tear.