The Gospel Miracles :: :: University of Virginia Library

Yield the way, give ample space;
Lo, it comes thro' Naïn's gate:
Give the sad procession place,
Moving in funereal state.
There, in Death's attire array'd,
One in prime of youth is laid:
And a mournful matron near
Paces by the burial bier.

With maternal anguish wild,
In affliction's darkest mood,
'Tis the mother mourns her child,
Reft from her in widowhood.
'Tis the mother mourns her son,
Him her last and only one:
Well may she her sorrow rue,
Husbandless, and childless too!

Many a lonely year of grief,
Thro' the livelong night and day,
He has been her sole relief,
He has been her only stay.
What of joy her heart has known,
Center'd all in him alone;
Parent, husband, daughter, son,
All together wrapt in one.

All surviv'd in him alone,
All in him alone are dead!
In one ruin overthrown,
Life's last charities are fled.

What, alas! is left for her,
But in yonder sepulchre,
Where her earthly hope shall lie,
There to lay her down and die?

“Weep not!” Hark, a voice I hear
Issuing from another throng,
Which to Naïn's city near
Moves Capernaum's road along.
There is one of gentle mien,
Who, on yon funereal scene
Gazing with benignant eyes,
“Weep not,” to the mourner cries.

Who is he that boldly bids
Tears of grief their station keep,
Pent within the bursting lids?
'Twere as easy task from sleep
To recall that corpse again;
And along the blacken'd vein
Bid, with renovated glow,
Life's empurpled current flow.

'Twere as easy!—Lo, a hand
Softly rests upon the bier!
Still the attentive bearers stand.
Hark, again the voice I hear:
“Youth, I say to thee, arise!”
Quickly as the mandate flies,
Fresh with life the nerves are strung,
Beam the eyes, and speaks the tongue.

Now, lorn mother, weep no more:
Or, if starting to the eye
Tears will thence spontaneous pour,
Be they tears of ecstasy!

In thy desolate embrace
See the kind Deliverer place
Him, whom he from death hath won;
Him, thy dead, thy living son!

Take him, he is thine again!
Let him to thy bosom grow,
There thy child with transport strain,
Such as thou alone canst know.
There the silent thoughts that swell
To the Saviour's eye shall tell,
More than language can express,
All thy depth of thankfulness.

We meanwhile, whose lighter heart
Less o'erwhelming joys possess,
We will bear a louder part,
And thy Benefactor bless.
Blessings on our Prophet light!
Hail his deed of love and might!
Blest be he whom God hath sent!
Praise to God Omnipotent!

So from distant Galilee
Shall the glorious tidings sound;
Tabor's mount, Tiberias' sea,
Hence shall spread the marvel round.
Judah's hills shall hear the tale;
And her towns our Prophet hail,
At whose bidding sorrow flies,
Death is foil'd, the dead arise!