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245
MARY AT THE SEPULCHRE.
“Then the disciples went away again unto their own home. But Mary stood without at the sepulchre, weeping.”
—St. John, XX. 10, 11.
O, He's gone,—the tomb forsaken!
They have come where Jesus lay,
Rolled aside the stone, and taken
Him they crucified away!
Here 's the shroud we sorrowing made him
Whom they pierced with nail and spear;—
Murderers of our Lord!—they 've laid him
Far from sight,—he is not here.
They have come where Jesus lay,
Rolled aside the stone, and taken
Him they crucified away!
Here 's the shroud we sorrowing made him
Whom they pierced with nail and spear;—
Murderers of our Lord!—they 've laid him
Far from sight,—he is not here.
Lo! I see,—where he was sleeping,
Pale, in death's cold, shadowy night,—
Watchmen; they his place are keeping,
Clothed in raiment dazzling white!
And, as consolation giving,
'T was of him they sweetly said,
“Wherefore dost thou seek the living
In the mansion of the dead?”
Pale, in death's cold, shadowy night,—
Watchmen; they his place are keeping,
Clothed in raiment dazzling white!
And, as consolation giving,
'T was of him they sweetly said,
“Wherefore dost thou seek the living
In the mansion of the dead?”
They are spirits! and they know me,
Sinful mortal;—I'm afraid!
Stranger,—Sir, wilt thou not show me
Where my blessed Lord is laid?
'T is himself!—my name he calleth!
Hail, Rabboni, Israel's King!
Conquered, Death before thee falleth;
Broke his sceptre,—gone his sting!
Sinful mortal;—I'm afraid!
Stranger,—Sir, wilt thou not show me
Where my blessed Lord is laid?
'T is himself!—my name he calleth!
Hail, Rabboni, Israel's King!
Conquered, Death before thee falleth;
Broke his sceptre,—gone his sting!
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