Once More, Ye Sacred Towers, Your Solemn Dirges Sound; Strew, Loving Hands, The April Flowers, Once More To Deck His Mound. A Nation Mourns Its Dead, Its Sorrowing Voices One, As Israel'S Monarch Bowed His Head And Cried, "My Son! My Son!" Why Mourn For Him? - For Him The Welcome Angel Came Ere Yet His Eye With Age Was Dim Or Bent His Stately Frame; His Weapon Still Was Bright, His Shield Was Lifted High To Slay The Wrong, To Save The Right, - What Happier Hour To Die? Thou Orderest All Things Well; Thy Servant'S Work Was Done; He Lived To Hear Oppression'S Knell, The Shouts For Freedom Won. Hark!! From The Opening Skies The Anthem'S Echoing Swell, - "O Mourning Land, Lift Up Thine Eyes! God Reigneth. All Is Well!"