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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
Round your children's sleep to-night,
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, 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; Let, to-night, your labors cease, Give your care-worn spirits peace.
Ye who roam our seas and mountains,
Messengers of love and light;
Wear}' day and wakeful night;
Dwellers in the woods and valleys,
Ye who, pent in crowded alleys,
Labor early, late take rest;
From your halls of stately beauty,
Sculptured roof, and marble floor,
Haste, ye rich, and join the poor.
Lo, His grave! the grey rock closes
O'er that virgin burial-ground;
Trees funereal droop around,
And the morn with floods of splendor
Fills the spicy midnight air;
Bird, and beast, and insect rover, —
E'en the lilies of the field, Till His gentle life was over,
Heavenly thought to Him could yield.
But the hearts that bowed before Him
Let such hearts to-night watch o'er Him
Till the day-spring shall appear: —
All night long, with plaintive voicing,
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."
I GOT me flowers to strew Thy way;
The sun arising in the East,
Though he give light, and the East perfume;
If they should offer to contest
With Thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
HE is gone—beyond the skies,
He is gone, — and we return,
He is gone, — and we remain
He is gone, —but we once more
In the Heaven of Heavens the same
He is gone, — but not in vain; • Wait, until He comes again;
He is risen, He is not here,
A. P. Stanley
GOD is ascended up on high,
Sing praises then, sing praises loud
Unto our universal King:
To Him all laud and praises sing.
In human flesh and shape He went,