Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander Edited, with a preface, by William Alexander |
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THE RESURRECTION. |
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 | Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander |  |
127
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.
128
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 | |