| |
| ALL is o’er,—the pain, the sorrow, | |
| Human taunts, and fiendish spite, | |
| Death shall be despoiled to-morrow | |
| Of the prey he grasps to-night; | |
| Yet, once more to seal his doom, | 5 |
| Christ must sleep within the tomb. | |
| |
| Close and still the cell that holds him, | |
| While in brief repose he lies; | |
| Deep the slumber that infolds him, | |
| Veiled awhile from mortal eyes,— | 10 |
| Slumber such as needs must be | |
| After hard-won victory. | |
| |
| Fierce and deadly was the anguish | |
| Which on yonder cross he bore; | |
| How did soul and body languish, | 15 |
| Till the toil of death was o’er! | |
| But that toil so fierce and dread, | |
| Bruised and crushed the serpent’s head. | |
| |
| Whither hath his soul departed? | |
| Roams it on some blissful shore, | 20 |
| Where the meek and faithful-hearted, | |
| Vex’t by this world’s hate no more, | |
| Wait until the trump of doom | |
| Call their bodies from the tomb? | |
| |
| Or on some benignant mission, | 25 |
| To the imprisoned spirit sent, | |
| Hath he to their dark condition | |
| Gleams of hope and mercy lent? | |
| Souls not wholly lost of old | |
| When o’er earth the deluge rolled! | 30 |
| |
| Ask no more, the abyss is deeper | |
| E’en than angels’ thoughts may scan | |
| Come and watch the heavenly Sleeper; | |
| Come, and do what mortals can, | |
| Reverence meet toward him to prove, | 35 |
| Faith and trust and humble love. | |
| |
| Far away amidst the regions | |
| Of the bright and balmy East, | |
| Guarded by angelic legions, | |
| Till death’s slumber shall have ceased, | 40 |
| (How should we its stillness stir?) | |
| Lies the Saviour’s sepulchre. | |
| |
| Far away; yet thought would wander | |
| (Thought by faith’s sure guidance led) | |
| Farther yet to weep, and ponder | 45 |
| Over that sepulchral bed. | |
| Thither let us haste, and flee | |
| On the wings of phantasy, | |
| |
| Haste, from every clime and nation, | |
| Fervent youth and reverent age; | 50 |
| Peasant, prince, each rank and station, | |
| Haste and join this pilgrimage. | |
| East and west, and south and north, | |
| Send your saintliest spirits forth. | |
| |
| Mothers, ere the curtain closes | 55 |
| Round your children’s sleep to-night, | |
| Tell them how their Lord reposes, | |
| Waiting for to-morrow’s light; | |
| Teach their dreams to him to rove, | |
| Him who loved them, him they love. | 60 |
| |
| Matron grave and blooming maiden, | |
| Hoary sage and beardless boy, | |
| Hearts with grief and care o’erladen, | |
| Hearts brimful of hope and joy, | |
| Come, and greet in death’s dark hall | 65 |
| Him who felt with, felt for all. | |
| |
| Men of God devoutly toiling | |
| This world’s fetters to unbind, | |
| Satan of his prey despoiling | |
| In the hearts of human kind; | 70 |
| Let, to-night, your labours cease, | |
| Give your careworn spirits peace. | |
| |
| Ye who roam o’er seas and mountains, | |
| Messengers of love and light; | |
| Ye who guard truth’s sacred fountains, | 75 |
| Weary day and wakeful night; | |
| Men of labour, men of lore, | |
| Give your toils and studies o’er. | |
| |
| Dwellers in the woods and valleys, | |
| Ye of meek and lowly breast; | 80 |
| Ye who, pent in crowded alleys, | |
| Labour early, late take rest; | |
| Leave the plough and leave the loom; | |
| Meet us at our Saviour’s tomb. | |
| |
| From your halls of stately beauty, | 85 |
| Sculptured roof and marble floor, | |
| In this work of Christian duty | |
| Haste, ye rich, and join the poor. | |
| Mean and noble, bond and free, | |
| Meet in frank equality. | 90 |
| |
| Lo, his grave! the grey rock closes | |
| O’er that virgin burial-ground; | |
| Near it breathe the garden roses, | |
| Trees funereal droop around, | |
| In whose boughs the small birds rest, | 95 |
| And the stock-dove builds her nest. | |
| |
| And the morn with floods of splendour | |
| Fills the spicy midnight air; | |
| Tranquil sounds, and voices tender, | |
| Speak of life and gladness there; | 100 |
| Ne’er was living thing, I wot, | |
| Which our Lord regarded not. | |
| |
| Bird and beast and insect rover, | |
| E’en the lilies of the field, | |
| Till his gentle life was over, | 105 |
| Heavenly thought to him could yield. | |
| All that is, to him did prove | |
| Food for wisdom, food for love. | |
| |
| But the hearts that bowed before him | |
| Most of all to him were dear; | 110 |
| Let such hearts to-night watch o’er him | |
| Till the dayspring shall appear. | |
| Then a brighter sun shall rise | |
| Than e’er kindled up the skies. | |
| |
| All night long, with plaintive voicing, | 115 |
| Chant his requiem soft and low; | |
| Loftier strains of loud rejoicing | |
| From to-morrow’s harps shall flow. | |
| “Death and hell at length are slain, | |
| Christ hath triumphed, Christ doth reign.” | 120 |
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