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If, underneath death's cold wing,
His restless soul should fly away,
Beyond the grasp of fools,
T'would meet with the bliss they deny,
So stand for him, kneel for him,
As he lies low in kneaded clay,
Pray for him, who prayed too late,
That he might shine on judgement day.
Kyrie Eleison. Christe Eleison.
Kyrie Eleison. Christe Eleison.
O Domine Deus dona nobis pacem.
O Domine Deus dona nobis pacem.
