Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander Edited, with a preface, by William Alexander |
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New Testament Subjects.
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 | Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander |  |
New Testament Subjects.
THE ADORATION OF THE WISE MEN.
Saw you never in the twilight,
When the sun had left the skies,
Up in heaven the clear stars shining,
Through the gloom like silver eyes?
So of old the wise men watching,
Saw a little stranger star,
And they knew the King was given,
And they followed it from far.
When the sun had left the skies,
Up in heaven the clear stars shining,
Through the gloom like silver eyes?
So of old the wise men watching,
Saw a little stranger star,
And they knew the King was given,
And they followed it from far.
Heard you never of the story,
How they cross'd the desert wild,
Journey'd on by plain and mountain,
Till they found the Holy Child?
How they open'd all their treasure,
Kneeling to that Infant King,
Gave the gold and fragrant incense,
Gave the myrrh in offering?
How they cross'd the desert wild,
Journey'd on by plain and mountain,
Till they found the Holy Child?
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Kneeling to that Infant King,
Gave the gold and fragrant incense,
Gave the myrrh in offering?
Know ye not that lowly Baby
Was the bright and morning star,
He who came to light the Gentiles,
And the darkened isles afar?
And we too may seek His cradle,
There our heart's best treasures bring,
Love, and Faith, and true devotion,
For our Saviour, God, and King.
Was the bright and morning star,
He who came to light the Gentiles,
And the darkened isles afar?
And we too may seek His cradle,
There our heart's best treasures bring,
Love, and Faith, and true devotion,
For our Saviour, God, and King.
“HE CAME DOWN TO NAZARETH.”
There was of old a poor man's house,
Within a lowly eastern town,
Wherein our blessed Saviour lived,
When He to earth from heaven came down.
Within a lowly eastern town,
Wherein our blessed Saviour lived,
When He to earth from heaven came down.
There did He live a little Child,
Was subject to His parents' sway;
There worked, perhaps, with willing hand,
And grew in wisdom day by day.
Was subject to His parents' sway;
There worked, perhaps, with willing hand,
And grew in wisdom day by day.
The breeze blew fragrant from the hills,
The blue lake gently murmured, near:
But sweeter than the mountain's flower,
And purer than the water clear,
The blue lake gently murmured, near:
But sweeter than the mountain's flower,
And purer than the water clear,
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Was Sharon's rose beneath that roof—
The holy Child so pure and fair,
In meek obedience year by year,
Love's perfect pattern lingering there.
The holy Child so pure and fair,
In meek obedience year by year,
Love's perfect pattern lingering there.
O let us often seek in thought,
That cottage-house in Galilee;
And by this blest example learn,
What Christian children ought to be:
That cottage-house in Galilee;
And by this blest example learn,
What Christian children ought to be:
Then show within our own poor hearts,
Obedient love and duteous care;
And Christ, Who was a peasant Child,
Shall come Himself and bless us there.
Obedient love and duteous care;
And Christ, Who was a peasant Child,
Shall come Himself and bless us there.
“BAPTIZED IN JORDAN.”
Still bright and blue doth Jordan flow,
Between his banks all rough and bold,
And round the far forgotten shore,
Where Jesus was baptized of old.
Between his banks all rough and bold,
And round the far forgotten shore,
Where Jesus was baptized of old.
And only from the woodland near,
The lonely ringdove comes to sing,
Where erst the Spirit like a dove,
Came down upon her silver wing;
The lonely ringdove comes to sing,
Where erst the Spirit like a dove,
Came down upon her silver wing;
And where the voice of God was heard,
In silence o'er the desert sod;
And round the rocks that saw and felt
The presence of the Triune God.
In silence o'er the desert sod;
And round the rocks that saw and felt
The presence of the Triune God.
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Still in Thy Church, O Lord, flow on
The waves of Thy baptismal grace;
And still the holy Dove comes down,
As soft they touch each infant face.
The waves of Thy baptismal grace;
And still the holy Dove comes down,
As soft they touch each infant face.
And still above the new-crossed brow,
The three great names of God are spoken;
And Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Are near to bless that healing token.
The three great names of God are spoken;
And Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Are near to bless that healing token.
Oh, as Thy children wander on,
Still o'er them brood, Thou Threefold Power;
And still the vow be on their souls,
They breathed in their baptismal hour.
Still o'er them brood, Thou Threefold Power;
And still the vow be on their souls,
They breathed in their baptismal hour.
THE DOVE.
Ogentle dove, Spring's harbinger,
How much I love to hear,
From budding larch in boisterous March,
Thy woodnote sweet and clear!
How much I love to hear,
From budding larch in boisterous March,
Thy woodnote sweet and clear!
When in our fields the daffodil
Just shows her golden sheath,
And here and there a primrose rare
Comes peeping underneath,
Just shows her golden sheath,
And here and there a primrose rare
Comes peeping underneath,
Then as the cold morn struggling out
Lights lawn and leafless trees,
And scarce a note from woodbird's throat
Comes on the ruffling breeze,
Lights lawn and leafless trees,
And scarce a note from woodbird's throat
Comes on the ruffling breeze,
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I hear across the windy dawn
Thine oft-repeated strain,
And memories fraught with holy thought
Come surging thro' my brain.
Thine oft-repeated strain,
And memories fraught with holy thought
Come surging thro' my brain.
I see in distant Palestine
The sacred Jordan flow,
And lilies that heard the Saviour's Word
Along his banks in blow.
The sacred Jordan flow,
And lilies that heard the Saviour's Word
Along his banks in blow.
There Jesus bore man's baptism,
There God's great word was said,
And the form was thine that Love Divine
Bade hover o'er His head.
There God's great word was said,
And the form was thine that Love Divine
Bade hover o'er His head.
I see a slow emerging world,
A slow retreating sea,
A raven dark from a stranded ark
And a lonely olive tree.
A slow retreating sea,
A raven dark from a stranded ark
And a lonely olive tree.
I see the dove, kind messenger,
Caught in by Noah's hand,
With the leaf sere that told hope near
To that imprison'd band.
Caught in by Noah's hand,
With the leaf sere that told hope near
To that imprison'd band.
As once Thy Spirit like a dove
On Thy “Beloved” was pour'd,
So let Thy grace find resting place
In this poor heart, O Lord!
On Thy “Beloved” was pour'd,
So let Thy grace find resting place
In this poor heart, O Lord!
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In the world's strife to Thee I flee,
Let Thy hand take me in—
Safe in Thy fold Thy wanderer hold,
And keep from shame and sin.
Let Thy hand take me in—
Safe in Thy fold Thy wanderer hold,
And keep from shame and sin.
LENT.
“And Jesus put forth His hand and touched him, saying,
I will, be thou clean.”—S. Matt. vii. 3.
Thou Who didst touch the leper foul,
And cleanse him with the word “I will,”
Have mercy on Thy sinful child,
Touch me too in Thy mercy mild,
My plague is fouler still.
And cleanse him with the word “I will,”
Have mercy on Thy sinful child,
Touch me too in Thy mercy mild,
My plague is fouler still.
He bore the brand upon his flesh,
Mine lieth deep and dark within,
Down in my heart where bad thoughts hide,
Where passion reigns, and wrath, and pride,
The leprosy of sin.
Mine lieth deep and dark within,
Down in my heart where bad thoughts hide,
Where passion reigns, and wrath, and pride,
The leprosy of sin.
The leper felt his fearful doom,
But I am cold and slow to see
My strength how weak, my sins how great,
The misery of my lost estate,
And all my need of Thee.
But I am cold and slow to see
My strength how weak, my sins how great,
The misery of my lost estate,
And all my need of Thee.
'Tis Thou alone canst make me clean,
O Blessed Saviour, if Thou wilt,
And 'tis Thy will, full well I know,
To wash me all as white as snow,
For this Thy blood was spilt.
O Blessed Saviour, if Thou wilt,
And 'tis Thy will, full well I know,
To wash me all as white as snow,
For this Thy blood was spilt.
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I cannot feel Thy healing touch,
I cannot see the river flow,
The cleansing water, and the blood,
But I can bring to that pure flood,
My load of sin and woe.
I cannot see the river flow,
The cleansing water, and the blood,
But I can bring to that pure flood,
My load of sin and woe.
This deep corruption cleanse, O Lord,
Unseen, but open to Thy sight;
My sinful soul doth trembling stand,
Touch it with purifying hand,
And make the scarlet white.
Unseen, but open to Thy sight;
My sinful soul doth trembling stand,
Touch it with purifying hand,
And make the scarlet white.
“TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER.”
“Dear is thy Daughter, trouble not the Master”—
Thus in the Ruler's ear his servants spake,
While tremblingly he urged the Saviour faster
Up the green slope from that white-margined Lake.
Thus in the Ruler's ear his servants spake,
While tremblingly he urged the Saviour faster
Up the green slope from that white-margined Lake.
The soft wave weltered, and the breeze came sighing
Out of the oleander thickets red;
He only heard a breath that gasped in dying,
Or “Trouble not the Master—She is dead.”
Out of the oleander thickets red;
He only heard a breath that gasped in dying,
Or “Trouble not the Master—She is dead.”
Trouble Him not. Ah! are these words beseeming
The desolation of that awful day,
When love's vain fancies, hope's delusive dreaming
Are over—and the life has fled for aye?
The desolation of that awful day,
When love's vain fancies, hope's delusive dreaming
Are over—and the life has fled for aye?
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We need Him most when the dear eyes are closing,
When on the cheek the shadow lieth strong,
When the soft lines are set in that reposing
That never Mother cradled with a song.
When on the cheek the shadow lieth strong,
When the soft lines are set in that reposing
That never Mother cradled with a song.
Then most we need the gentle Human Feeling
That throbs with all our sorrows and our fears,
And that great Love Divine its light revealing
In short bright flashes through a mist of tears.
That throbs with all our sorrows and our fears,
And that great Love Divine its light revealing
In short bright flashes through a mist of tears.
Then most we need the Voice that while it weepeth
Yet hath a solemn undertone that saith—
Weep not, thy darling is not dead, but sleepeth;
Only believe, for I have conquered death.
Yet hath a solemn undertone that saith—
Weep not, thy darling is not dead, but sleepeth;
Only believe, for I have conquered death.
Then most we need the thoughts of Resurrection,
Not the life here, 'mid pain, and sin, and woe,
But ever in the fulness of perfection,
To walk with Him in robes as white as snow.
Not the life here, 'mid pain, and sin, and woe,
But ever in the fulness of perfection,
To walk with Him in robes as white as snow.
When in our nursery garden falls a blossom,
And as we kiss the hand and fold the feet,
We cannot see the lamb in Abraham's bosom,
Nor hear the footfall in the golden street.
And as we kiss the hand and fold the feet,
We cannot see the lamb in Abraham's bosom,
Nor hear the footfall in the golden street.
When all is silent—neither moan nor cheering,
The hush of hope, the end of all our cares—
All but that harp above, beyond our hearing,
Then most we need to trouble Him with prayers.
The hush of hope, the end of all our cares—
All but that harp above, beyond our hearing,
Then most we need to trouble Him with prayers.
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Did He not enter in when that cold sleeper
Lay still, with pulseless heart and leaden eyes,
Put calmly forth each loud tumultuous weeper,
And take her by the hand and bid her rise?
Lay still, with pulseless heart and leaden eyes,
Put calmly forth each loud tumultuous weeper,
And take her by the hand and bid her rise?
Come to us, Saviour! in our lone dejection,
Speak calmly to our wild and passionate grief,
Bring us the hopes and thoughts of Resurrection,
Bring us the comfort of a true Belief.
Speak calmly to our wild and passionate grief,
Bring us the hopes and thoughts of Resurrection,
Bring us the comfort of a true Belief.
Come! with that Human Voice that breaks in weeping,
Come! with that awful Tenderness Divine,
Come! tell us that they are not dead but sleeping,
But gone before to Thee, for they are Thine.
Come! with that awful Tenderness Divine,
Come! tell us that they are not dead but sleeping,
But gone before to Thee, for they are Thine.
“SHE IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH.”
Like a young flower of early May,
That children pluck and leave to die,
The ruler's little daughter lay,
With cold pale cheeks and sunken eye,
Out-stretched upon the little bed,
Where oft she slumbered calm and light,
They left the maiden stiff and dead;
No faded blossom half so white.
That children pluck and leave to die,
The ruler's little daughter lay,
With cold pale cheeks and sunken eye,
Out-stretched upon the little bed,
Where oft she slumbered calm and light,
They left the maiden stiff and dead;
No faded blossom half so white.
The childless mother weepeth sore,
The mourners make a louder moan;
But Christ has pass'd the chamber door,
And chid the mourners' scoffing tone.
The hand that clothes the hawthorn tree,
When spring returns to deck the plain,
Gives warm and bright that human flower
Back to her mother's breast again.
The mourners make a louder moan;
But Christ has pass'd the chamber door,
And chid the mourners' scoffing tone.
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When spring returns to deck the plain,
Gives warm and bright that human flower
Back to her mother's breast again.
O, work of joy! O, work of love!
He holds her hand, He bids her rise,
Her lip grows red, the eyelids move,
The child looks up with wondering eyes.
Then who should fear a dying bed,
Or who in hopeless sorrow weep,
Since Jesus stands beside His dead,
And whispers soft, “They do but sleep.”
He holds her hand, He bids her rise,
Her lip grows red, the eyelids move,
The child looks up with wondering eyes.
Then who should fear a dying bed,
Or who in hopeless sorrow weep,
Since Jesus stands beside His dead,
And whispers soft, “They do but sleep.”
AT JACOB'S WELL.
“Jesus saith unto her, Give Me to drink.”—St. John iv. 7.
The noonday's sun from Ebal's crest,
On Shechem's valley fell;
A weary Man sat down to rest,
Alone by Jacob's well.
On Shechem's valley fell;
A weary Man sat down to rest,
Alone by Jacob's well.
The woman with her pitcher hied,
Down to the deep well's brink:
She little thought Who sat beside,
And ask'd her for a drink.
Down to the deep well's brink:
She little thought Who sat beside,
And ask'd her for a drink.
She little dream'd what lips were those
That made that poor request:
Lips whence the living water flows,
Wherewith all hearts are blest.
That made that poor request:
Lips whence the living water flows,
Wherewith all hearts are blest.
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O, often to our hearths and homes,
When least we know or think,
Athirst, and weary, Jesus comes,
And bids us give Him drink.
When least we know or think,
Athirst, and weary, Jesus comes,
And bids us give Him drink.
He asks us by some daily care,
Some claim of common life;
Some heart that hath a grief to share,
Some work with kindness rife.
Some claim of common life;
Some heart that hath a grief to share,
Some work with kindness rife.
Make haste, and hear thy Saviour's call,
Let love and pity plead;
Make haste, and let thy pitcher fall,
And do the tender deed.
Let love and pity plead;
Make haste, and let thy pitcher fall,
And do the tender deed.
So from the depths of love divine,
The streams of grace shall pour;
Wash that sin-wearied soul of thine,
And let thee thirst no more.
The streams of grace shall pour;
Wash that sin-wearied soul of thine,
And let thee thirst no more.
THE STORM.
“It is I, be not afraid.”—St. John vi. 20.
From all the low green hills that crown
The waters of that inland sea,
The loosen'd winds rush'd madly down,
And swept the lake of Galilee.
The waters of that inland sea,
The loosen'd winds rush'd madly down,
And swept the lake of Galilee.
A little boat was labouring sore,
While darker still the dark night grew;
And the sea rose from shore to shore,
By reason of the wind that blew.
While darker still the dark night grew;
And the sea rose from shore to shore,
By reason of the wind that blew.
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'Twixt sea and sky a darken'd speck,
She drifts along the stormy deep;
No Saviour on her wave-wash'd deck,
Lies pillow'd now in quiet sleep.
She drifts along the stormy deep;
No Saviour on her wave-wash'd deck,
Lies pillow'd now in quiet sleep.
But who is this that walks the storm,
With even step, and calm, firm eye?
They tremble as His awful form,
On the wild waters draweth nigh.
With even step, and calm, firm eye?
They tremble as His awful form,
On the wild waters draweth nigh.
“'Tis I,” He saith, “be not afraid.”
Then fast the storm-clouds fled away;
And still as flowers in summer glade,
Around His feet the foam-wreaths lay.
Then fast the storm-clouds fled away;
And still as flowers in summer glade,
Around His feet the foam-wreaths lay.
O Saviour, when on life's dark lake
The waves are roaring darkly round;
When conscience bids the spirit quake,
And sin, and grief, and pain abound;
The waves are roaring darkly round;
When conscience bids the spirit quake,
And sin, and grief, and pain abound;
Stand Thou upon the stormy shore,
Walk Thou along the uneasy wave;
Say to me, Sinner, fear no more,
For I am drawing nigh to save.
Walk Thou along the uneasy wave;
Say to me, Sinner, fear no more,
For I am drawing nigh to save.
Draw nigh, O Lord, reach forth Thine hand,
Come up into the ship with me:
So shall I soon be at the land,
The heavenly land where I would be.
Come up into the ship with me:
So shall I soon be at the land,
The heavenly land where I would be.
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“PEACE, BE STILL.”
Fiercely came the tempest sweeping,
Down the lake of Galilee;
But the ship where Christ lay sleeping,
Might not sink in that wild sea.
When He rose the tempest chiding,
When He bade the waters rest;
Calm the little ship went gliding
On the blue lake's quiet breast.
Down the lake of Galilee;
But the ship where Christ lay sleeping,
Might not sink in that wild sea.
When He rose the tempest chiding,
When He bade the waters rest;
Calm the little ship went gliding
On the blue lake's quiet breast.
And the white waves rushing past her,
Round her keel lay smooth and still;
For the wild waves knew their Master,
And the winds obeyed His will.
Thou Who heard'st those seamen pleading,
Waking at their anguish cry—
Sleep not now, when comfort needing,
Saviour, unto Thee we fly.
Round her keel lay smooth and still;
For the wild waves knew their Master,
And the winds obeyed His will.
Thou Who heard'st those seamen pleading,
Waking at their anguish cry—
Sleep not now, when comfort needing,
Saviour, unto Thee we fly.
When at night our homes are shaken,
And the howling winds we hear—
As in terror we awaken,
Keep us safe from harm and fear.
When the waves of pride or anger,
Rise to vex our hearts within:
Keep us from a grater danger,
From the passion storms of sin.
And the howling winds we hear—
As in terror we awaken,
Keep us safe from harm and fear.
When the waves of pride or anger,
Rise to vex our hearts within:
Keep us from a grater danger,
From the passion storms of sin.
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THE BLIND MAN BEGGING.
The blind man in his darkness,
Beside the highway sat,
He heard the trampling footsteps
Throng to the city gate,
They told him Christ of Nazareth
That hour was passing by:
And “Jesus, have Thou mercy,”
Was then the blind man's ery.
Beside the highway sat,
He heard the trampling footsteps
Throng to the city gate,
They told him Christ of Nazareth
That hour was passing by:
And “Jesus, have Thou mercy,”
Was then the blind man's ery.
And when the people chid him,
Still louder cried he,
“O Jesu, Son of David,
Have mercy upon me.”
O, joy! He stands and calls him,
O gush of great delight!
His pitying words have given
The blessed gift of sight.
Still louder cried he,
“O Jesu, Son of David,
Have mercy upon me.”
O, joy! He stands and calls him,
O gush of great delight!
His pitying words have given
The blessed gift of sight.
We too had sat in darkness,
Lost in our sin and care,
With blind eyes turned to heaven,
That saw no Saviour there:
If Jesus had not made us
His own by love and grace,
Here in His Church to serve Him,
And see at last His face.
Lost in our sin and care,
With blind eyes turned to heaven,
That saw no Saviour there:
If Jesus had not made us
His own by love and grace,
Here in His Church to serve Him,
And see at last His face.
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Then let us rise and follow,
Since Christ has called us in,
And cast away the garments
Of slothfulness and sin;
Till from our dim dark vision
Each scale be rent away,
And we behold His glory,
And see the perfect day.
Since Christ has called us in,
And cast away the garments
Of slothfulness and sin;
Till from our dim dark vision
Each scale be rent away,
And we behold His glory,
And see the perfect day.
“HE SET A CHILD IN THE MIDST.”
A gentle and a holy child,
Was sure that little one of old,
Whom Jesus took into His arms,
And to His own Apostles told:
Was sure that little one of old,
Whom Jesus took into His arms,
And to His own Apostles told:
Ye cannot enter into heaven,
If still your hearts are proud and wild,
Except your hearts converted be,
Like little children pure and mild.
If still your hearts are proud and wild,
Except your hearts converted be,
Like little children pure and mild.
Had we been waiting at His side,
When Jesus taught His people thus,
Uplooking in His holy face,
Could He have chosen one of us?
When Jesus taught His people thus,
Uplooking in His holy face,
Could He have chosen one of us?
O! not unless our childish hearts,
In simple truthfulness obey;
Unless our souls be guileless found,
And meek and gentle, day by day.
In simple truthfulness obey;
Unless our souls be guileless found,
And meek and gentle, day by day.
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O Saviour, make us good and mild,
And fill our hearts with simple joy,
And bless us with Thy gentle hand,
As Thou didst bless that Jewish boy.
And fill our hearts with simple joy,
And bless us with Thy gentle hand,
As Thou didst bless that Jewish boy.
THE GOOD SHEPHERD.
In the pleasant sunny meadows,
Where the buttercups are seen;
And the daisies' little shadows
Lie along the level green;
Where the buttercups are seen;
And the daisies' little shadows
Lie along the level green;
Flocks of quiet sheep are feeding,
Little lambs are playing near;
For the watchful shepherd leading,
Keeps them safe from harm and fear.
Little lambs are playing near;
For the watchful shepherd leading,
Keeps them safe from harm and fear.
Hill and plain he leads them over,
Where at noon the shadows sleep,
Where the richest purple clover
Grows along the sunny steep:
Where at noon the shadows sleep,
Where the richest purple clover
Grows along the sunny steep:
Where, within the mountain hollow,
Cool the shining waters flow;
And the sheep their shepherd follow,
For his gentle voice they know.
Cool the shining waters flow;
And the sheep their shepherd follow,
For his gentle voice they know.
Christians are like sheep abiding
In the Church's pasture free;
Jesus is our Shepherd guiding,
And the little lambs are we.
In the Church's pasture free;
Jesus is our Shepherd guiding,
And the little lambs are we.
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O sweet Shepherd, gently lead us,
Lest we fall or go astray;
With the bread of heaven feed us,
That we faint not by the way.
Lest we fall or go astray;
With the bread of heaven feed us,
That we faint not by the way.
Pasture green and clover blossom
Are types of heavenly love;
Jesus, bear us in Thy bosom
Safely to Thy fold above.
Are types of heavenly love;
Jesus, bear us in Thy bosom
Safely to Thy fold above.
THE ASCENSION.
The golden gates are lifted up,
The doors are open'd wide,
The King of Glory is gone in
Unto His Father's side.
The doors are open'd wide,
The King of Glory is gone in
Unto His Father's side.
Thou art gone up before us, Lord,
To make for us a place,
That we may be where now Thou art,
And look upon God's face.
To make for us a place,
That we may be where now Thou art,
And look upon God's face.
And ever on our earthly path
A gleam of glory lies,
A light still breaks behind the cloud
That veil'd Thee from our eyes.
A gleam of glory lies,
A light still breaks behind the cloud
That veil'd Thee from our eyes.
Lift up our hearts, lift up our minds
Let Thy dear grace be given,
That while we wander here below,
Our treasure be in Heaven.
Let Thy dear grace be given,
That while we wander here below,
Our treasure be in Heaven.
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That where Thou art at God's right Hand,
Our hope, our love may be,
Dwell Thou in us, that we may dwell
For evermore in Thee.
Our hope, our love may be,
Dwell Thou in us, that we may dwell
For evermore in Thee.
“WHEN JESUS SAW HIS MOTHER.”
When Jesus saw His mother stand
Beside His cruel cross of death,
In all His pains He thought of her,
And soothed her with His dying breath.
Beside His cruel cross of death,
In all His pains He thought of her,
And soothed her with His dying breath.
O perfect pattern, spotless love!
In life, in death, we learn of Thee,
Whose human heart so warmly beat,
To teach us what a child should be.
In life, in death, we learn of Thee,
Whose human heart so warmly beat,
To teach us what a child should be.
Ours cannot be as pure as Thine
Who, all Thy holy childhood dear,
Didst never vex Thy mother's soul,
Nor cost her eye a single tear.
Who, all Thy holy childhood dear,
Didst never vex Thy mother's soul,
Nor cost her eye a single tear.
But give us tender loving thought,
To feel a mother's inward care;
And still, with many a little art,
To soothe the grief we cannot share.
To feel a mother's inward care;
And still, with many a little art,
To soothe the grief we cannot share.
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THE RESURRECTION.
I.
In the rich man's garden ground,
Many a precious bud was found;
Dark blue leaf or silver bell,
Wrapt within its silken shell.
Many a precious bud was found;
Dark blue leaf or silver bell,
Wrapt within its silken shell.
But a bud more rich and rare,
Waited for its blooming there;
Where the Lord's dear body lay,
Folded in its white array.
Waited for its blooming there;
Where the Lord's dear body lay,
Folded in its white array.
Soon those buds shall give to light
Their rich blossoms blue and white,
Sooner yet to wondering eyes,
Shall the Lord of life arise.
Their rich blossoms blue and white,
Sooner yet to wondering eyes,
Shall the Lord of life arise.
Once in the baptismal wave,
All our sins, as in Thy grave,
By a type were buried low,
Teach us, Lord, to leave them so.
All our sins, as in Thy grave,
By a type were buried low,
Teach us, Lord, to leave them so.
Us from sin and death to save,
Thou didst lie in Joseph's cave;
Let our evil nature be,
Buried still, and dead with Thee.
Thou didst lie in Joseph's cave;
Let our evil nature be,
Buried still, and dead with Thee.
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II.
There was within a garden fair
A rich man's burial cave,
No form of man had moulder'd there,
It was a new-made grave.
A rich man's burial cave,
No form of man had moulder'd there,
It was a new-made grave.
But in that lonely narrow cell
The mystery was wrought,
The resurrection miracle
Whereby to man was brought
The mystery was wrought,
The resurrection miracle
Whereby to man was brought
Assurance of a wondrous change,
A balm for pain and strife,
A recompense for all the strange
Unequal things of life.
A balm for pain and strife,
A recompense for all the strange
Unequal things of life.
With spice and myrrh His bed they made,
The women came to weep,
And there the Prince of life was laid
And slept His three days' sleep.
The women came to weep,
And there the Prince of life was laid
And slept His three days' sleep.
But vain the Hebrew's stern award,
The heathen's bitter scorn,
The priest-seal'd stone, the Roman guard,
He rose on Easter morn.
The heathen's bitter scorn,
The priest-seal'd stone, the Roman guard,
He rose on Easter morn.
As comes the dawn in red and gold,
And none the moment know,
As flowers their thousand leaves unfold
And no man sees them blow;
And none the moment know,
As flowers their thousand leaves unfold
And no man sees them blow;
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So, silently, as flower or flame
He pass'd at break of day,
And then the attending angel came
And roll'd the stone away.
He pass'd at break of day,
And then the attending angel came
And roll'd the stone away.
O resurrection mystery,
In thee we have our part,
O risen Lord, we look to Thee,
Our very life Thou art!
In thee we have our part,
O risen Lord, we look to Thee,
Our very life Thou art!
That when we die, for Thou hast died,
We rise again to keep
An everlasting Easter tide,
Glad waking from short sleep.
We rise again to keep
An everlasting Easter tide,
Glad waking from short sleep.
| Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander | |