One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads Original, and suitable for music [by Jean Ingelow] |
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EASTER. |
 | One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads |  |
107
EASTER.
“Blessed be the Lord for evermore. Amen, and Amen.”
In the valleys of Immanuel's land,
Are there high-days, holier than the rest?
One another, with salutings bland,
Greet the saints upon the birthday blest?
In Immanuel's land, so far away,
If they keep e'en now their Easter day
Alleluias, none can reach our ken;
Yet, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
Are there high-days, holier than the rest?
One another, with salutings bland,
Greet the saints upon the birthday blest?
In Immanuel's land, so far away,
If they keep e'en now their Easter day
Alleluias, none can reach our ken;
Yet, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
There, it may be sometime from His throne
Coming down, Immanuel walks the shade;
Saints beneath the palm-trees, one by one,
Hear a man's sweet voice, no whit afraid,
Making mention of His sojourn here;
Then all angels sing in joyance clear
Alleluias. O they pass our ken;
Yet, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
Coming down, Immanuel walks the shade;
Saints beneath the palm-trees, one by one,
Hear a man's sweet voice, no whit afraid,
Making mention of His sojourn here;
Then all angels sing in joyance clear
Alleluias. O they pass our ken;
Yet, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
Sweetly now Immanuel's voice may sound,
“As upon this day in Salem old,
Me My sorrowing mother, Mary, found
'Mid the Father's courts of beaten gold;
When a child I knew not all My part,
And desired it of My Father's heart.”
Alleluias sang the angels then;
O, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
“As upon this day in Salem old,
Me My sorrowing mother, Mary, found
'Mid the Father's courts of beaten gold;
When a child I knew not all My part,
And desired it of My Father's heart.”
Alleluias sang the angels then;
O, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
108
Or, it may be He is heard to speak
While the winds of heaven about Him blow,
Looking down from some high, glorious peak
On the far-off earth that spins below;
“There, as on this day my work all o'er,
I slept to God and woke to sleep no more;”
Alleluias sang the angels then.
O, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
While the winds of heaven about Him blow,
Looking down from some high, glorious peak
On the far-off earth that spins below;
“There, as on this day my work all o'er,
I slept to God and woke to sleep no more;”
Alleluias sang the angels then.
O, earth, make sweet thine answer—“Amen.”
| One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads | |