Verse 1
The first of saints, the Bridegroom’s friend
Doth thus his course of sufferings end,
The Baptist by oppression dies,
An headless trunk the prophet lies,
Till carried from the dungeon’s gloom
In silence to his darker tomb.
Verse 2
And can we doubt a future day
Which shall the patient saints repay?
The day of man will soon be past,
The Judge of all descend at last,
And souls beneath the altar rise
To brightest thrones above the skies.