With Christ we share a mystic grave,
With Christ we buried lie;
But ’tis not in the darksome cave
By mournful Calvary.
The pure and bright baptismal flood
Entombs our nature’s stain;
New creatures from the cleansing wave
With Christ we rise again.
Thrice blest, if through this world of strife,
And sin, and selfish care,
Our snow white robe of righteousness
We undefilèd wear.
Thrice blest, if through the gate of death
All glorious and free
We to our joyful rising pass,
O risen Lord, with Thee.