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To rest each mortal grief and care Beside the Saviour's sepulchre. She bent above the sleeper's face, 'Tis the last time her eyes will trace The features graven in her heart, With life, life only to depart. A sad and solemn look she wore, For hope and passion are no more; And on her pallid brow appears The tenderness of prayers and tears; The quiet of unchanging gloom, The shadow of an early tomb.

She starts! some other step is near, A stranger must not find her here; The heavy curtains round will hide Her last sad vigil at his side.