Tetelestai!

(I)

Lo, He is dead! The suffering Christ is dead;

Closed are His eyes, and bowèd is His head.

Dead, too, in shame! Upon a Cross! and see,

Thorns crown His brow, in cruel mockery.

O night, and woe! The sun and stars are gone;

Dark is the world, and hope, despairing, flown.

Art Thou not Christ? The Christ of God, art Thou?

How then this death? This awful silence, how?

O sin, and death, and victory of the grave!

Canst Thou, in death, O Christ, Thy people save?

Weep in the night, O mortals at the grave;

Dead is the Christ, and dead He cannot save.