tr., John Brownlie
Lo, He is dead! The suffering Christ is dead;
Closed are His eyes, and bowèd is His head.
Dead, too, in shame! Upon a Cross! and see,
Thorns crown His brow, in stinging mockery.
O night, and woe! The sun and stars are gone;
Dark is the world, and hope, despairing, flown.
Art Thou not Christ? the Son of God, art Thou?
How then this death? This awful silence, how?
O sin and death, and victory of the grave!
Canst Thou, in death, O Christ, Thy people save?
Weep in the night, O mortals, at the grave;
Dead is the Christ, and dead He cannot save.