Then on thy bosom borne shall we descend, Again with earth to blend, Earth all refin'd with bright supernal fires, Tinctur'd with holy blood, and wing'd with pure desires. Meanwhile with every son and saint of thine Sitting by turns beneath thy sacred feet Know them by look and voice, and thank them all For words of hope, and bright examples given To shew through moonless skies that there is light in Heaven. O come that day, when in this restless heart Earth shall resign her part, When in the with Thee grave my limbs shall rest, My soul with Thee be blest! But stay, presumptuous-CHRIST with thee abides In the rock's dreary sides: He from the stone will wring celestial dew If but the prisoner's heart be faithful found and true. When tears are spent, and thou art left alone Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call The fount of holy blood; and lift on high Prisoner of Hope thou art look up and sing As in the pit his father's darling lay" Beside the desert way, And knew not how, but knew his God would save So, buried with our LORD, we'll close our eyes 1 Zechariah ix. 12. m Gen. xxxvii. 24. Turn ye to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope. They took him and cast him into a pit, and the pit was empty, there was no water in it. EASTER DAY. And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen. St. Luke xxiv. 5, 6. OH! day of days! shall hearts set free Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere And week-days, following in their train, Then wake, my soul, to high desires, Or, if she think, it is in scorn: "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." We in the words of Truth reply, "Methinks your wisdom guides amiss, "To'seek on earth a Christian's bliss; "We watch not now the lifeless stone; "Our only Lord is risen and gone." Yet even the lifeless stone is dear For thoughts of Him who late lay here; And the base world, now Christ hath died, Ennobled is and glorified. No more a charnel-house, to fence The relics of lost innocence, A vault of ruin and decay ; Th' imprisoning stone is roll'd away : 'Tis now a cell, where angels use 'Tis now a fane, where Love can find Christ every where embalm'd and shrin'd; Aye gathering up memorials sweet, Where'er she sets her duteous feet. Oh! joy to Mary first allow'd, When rous'd from weeping o'er his shroud, By his own calm, soul-soothing tone, Breathing her name, as still his own! K |