Pray, if you love me show it now;
Wait not until I've passed away,
And lying cold in yonder grave,
I cannot hear then what you say.

And if a wreath await my death,
Pray one green leaf now to me give,
All thy sweet sayings—say them now,
Pray let me hear them while I live.

Ah, if the half had been made known,
That which was said on burial day,
The many fainted would have risen,
And bounded upward on life's way.