OH! day of days! shall hearts set free | |
| No ministrel rapture, find for thee! | |
| Thou art the Sun of other days, | |
| They shine by giving back thy rays: | |
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| Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere | 5 |
| Thou sheddst thy light on all the year: | |
| Sundays by thee more glorious break, | |
| An Easter Day in every week: | |
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| And week-days, following in their train, | |
| The fulness of thy blessing gain, | 10 |
| Till all, both resting and employ, | |
| Be one Lords day of holy joy. | |
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| Then wake, my soul, to high desires, | |
| And earlier light thine altar fires: | |
| The world some hours is on her way, | 15 |
| Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day: | |
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| Or if she think, it is in scorn: | |
| The vernal light of Easter morn | |
| To her dark gaze no brighter seems | |
| Than Reasons or the Laws pale beams. | 20 |
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| Where is your Lord? she scornful asks; | |
| Where is His hire? we know His tasks; | |
| Sons of a King ye boast to be; | |
| Let us your crowns and treasures see. | |
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| We in the words of Truth reply | 25 |
| (An Angel brought them from the sky), | |
| Our Crown, our treasure is not here, | |
| Tis stored above the highest sphere: | |
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| Methinks your wisdom guides amiss, | |
| To seek on earth a Christians bliss; | 30 |
| We watch not now the lifeless stone; | |
| Our only Lord is risen and gone. | |
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| Yet even the lifeless stone is dear, | |
| For thoughts of Him who late lay here; | |
| And the base world, now Christ hath died, | 35 |
| Ennobled is and glorified. | |
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| No more a charnel-house, to fence | |
| The relics of lost innocence, | |
| A vault of ruin and decay; | |
| Th imprisoning stone is rolld away: | 40 |
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| Tis now a cell, where Angels use | |
| To come and go with heavenly news, | |
| And in the ears of mourners say, | |
| Come see the place where Jesus lay: | |
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| Tis now a fane where Love can find | 45 |
| Christ everywhere embalmd and shrind; | |
| Aye gathering up memorials sweet, | |
| Whereer she sets her duteous feet. | |
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| Oh! joy to Mary first allowed, | |
| When roused from weeping oer His shroud, | 50 |
| By His own calm, soul-soothing tone, | |
| Breathing her name, as still His own! | |
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| Joy to the faithful Three renewd, | |
| As their glad errand they pursued! | |
| Happy, who so Christs words convey, | 55 |
| That He may meet them on their way! | |
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| So is it still: to holy tears, | |
| In lonely hours, Christ risen appears: | |
| In social hours, who Christ would see, | |
| Must turn all tasks to Charity. | 60 |
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