By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab,
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By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab,
There lies a lonely grave;
But no man built that sepulcher,
And no man saw it e'er,
For the angels of God upturned the sod
And laid the dead man there.

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's the market place.

The grave's the market place.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
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The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th' inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Alas, poor Tom! how oft, with merry heart,
Have we beheld thee play the Sexton's part;
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Alas, poor Tom! how oft, with merry heart,
Have we beheld thee play the Sexton's part;
Each comic heart must now be grieved to see
The Sexton's dreary part performed on thee.

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

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

The grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.

The grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.

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

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

Perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.

Perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.