Yet even the lifeless stone is dear For thoughts of Him who late lay here; And the base world, now Christ hath died, Ennobled is and glorified. No more a charnel-house, to fence A vault of ruin and decay ; Th' imprisoning stone is roll'd away : "Tis now a cell, where Angels use To come and go with heavenly news, And in the ears of mourners say, "Come, see the place where Jesus lay:" 'Tis now a fane, where Love can find Christ every where embalm'd and shrin'd; Aye gathering up memorials sweet, Where'er she sets her duteous feet. Oh! joy to Mary first allow'd, When rous'd from weeping o'er his shroud, By his own calm, soul-soothing tone, Breathing her name, as still his own! Joy to the faithful Three renew'd, So is it still to holy tears, In lonely hours, Christ risen appears : In social hours, who Christ would see, Must turn all tasks to Charity. MONDAY IN EASTER WEEK. Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: but in every nation he that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with Him. Acts x. 34, 35, GO up and watch the new-born rill Just trickling from its mossy bed, With a bright emerald thread. Canst thou her bold career foretel, How far in Ocean's swell Her freshening billows send? Perchance that little brook shall flow Bear navies to and fro With monarchs at their helm. Or canst thou guess, how far away Mid reeds and mountain fern, Nurses her store, with thine to blend When many a moor and glen are past, Then in the wide sea end Their spotless lives at last? Even so, the course of prayer who knows? But streams shall meet it by and by Their chant of many parts. Unheard by all but angel ears K The while upon his terrac'd roof For heavenly vision soar'd. Far o'er the glowing western main The saint beside the ocean pray'd, Seem'd sacred in that hour. To each unknown his brother's prayer, Were they-and now they share There daily through Christ's open gate They see the Gentile spirits press, Brightening their high estate With dearer happiness. |