The Grave

The grave, the grave, it is a solemn thing,
A place of rest, where weary souls may sleep,
And where the angels softly o'er them sing,
And where the silent, solemn shadows creep.
No more the cares of this life shall they know,
No more the sorrows of this earthly sphere,
But in eternal peace they gently go,
And in God's love, forever they are near.