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Far away, amidst the regions

Of the bright and balmy east, Guarded by angelic legions, Till death's slumber shall have ceased, (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 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; 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, Tell them how their Lord reposes, Waiting for to-morrow's light; Teach their dreams to Him to'rove, Him who lov'd them, Him they love.

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 labours cease,
Give your care-worn spirits peace.

Ye who roam our seas and mountains,

Messengers of love and light; Ye who guard truth's sacred fountains, 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;
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,
Sculpture 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.

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,
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;
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,

Heavenly thought to Him could yield. All that is, to Him did prove, Food for wisdom, food for love.

But the hearts that bow'd before Him

Most of all to Him were dear; Let such hearts to-night watch o'er Him Till the day-spring shall appear :— Then a brighter sun shall rise Than e'er kindled up the skies.

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 triumph'd, Christ doth reign."

J. Moultrie


THE RESURRECTION I got me flowers to strew Thy way; I got me boughs off many a tree: But Thou wast up by break of day And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee. 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,
Though many suns to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we miss:
There is but One, and that One ever.

George Herbert

He is gone—beyond the skies,
A cloud receives Him from our eyes;
Gone beyond the highest height
Of mortal gaze or angel's flight;
Through the veils of time and space,
Pass'd into the holiest place;
All the toil, the sorrow done,
All the battle fought and won.

He is gone—and we return,
And our hearts within us burn;
Olivet no more shall greet,
With welcome shout, His coming feet;
Never shall we track Him more
On Gehnesareth's glist'ning shore,
Never in that look, or voice,
Shall Zion's walls again rejoice.

He is gone—and we remain
In this world of sin and pain,
In the void which He has left;
On this earth, of Him bereft;

We have still His work to do,
We can still His path pursue,
Seek Him both in friend or foe,
In ourselves His image show.

He is gone—but we once more
Shall behold Him as before,
In the Heaven of Heavens, the same
As on earth He went and came;
In the many mansions there,
Peace for us He will prepare,
In that world unseen, unknown,
He and we may yet be one.

He is gone—but not in vain;
Wait, until He comes again;
He is risen, He is not here,
Far above this earthly sphere;
Evermore in heart, and mind,
There our peace in Him we find,
To our own Eternal Friend,
Thitherward let us ascend.

A. P. Stanley

God is ascended up on high,

With merry noise of trumpet-sound,
And princely seated in the sky,
Rules over all the world around.

Sing praises then, sing praises loud

Unto our universal King: He who ascended on a cloud,

To Him all laud and praises sing.

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