But not the burial cave could chain
That never-dying form,

Nor could that crowned brow remain
In bondage to the worm:

Through sealed tomb and silent clay
The Lord of life returned this day.

He came his chosen few to cheer,
To join them on their way,
To whisper peace amid their fear,
To wipe all tears away;

To lead their sorrow from the tomb,
And point on high their future home.

And we too, though the body dies,
Remodelled from the clay,

With these same breathing forms shall rise,
At his triumphant day;

Though scattered far o'er wave and plain, This dust of ours shall live again.

Redeemer! when our forms shall be
Called from the silent earth,

May then our lot be cast with Thee!
With Thee our second birth!

Death's chain 'twas thine this day to break,
Make us, too, free for thy dear sake!

THE CHILD OF HOPE.

HE was the child of Hope,
That boy so mild and kind;
As spring's sweet flowers ope,
So dawned his gentle mind;
A depth of tranquil thought lay there,
A love that blessed his parents' care.

Each wonder science taught,
The earth, the sky above,
These on his spirit wrought,
And won his guileless love;
But chief the solemn page of truth
Was precious to his earliest youth.