| |
| THE CALM of blessed night | |
| Is on Judæa’s hills; | |
| The full-orbed moon with cloudless light | |
| Is sparkling on their rills: | |
| One spot above the rest | 5 |
| Is still and tranquil seen, | |
| The chamber as of something blest, | |
| Amidst its bowers of green. | |
| |
| Around that spot each way | |
| The figures ye may trace | 10 |
| Of men-at-arms in grim array, | |
| Girding the solemn place: | |
| But other bands are there— | |
| And, glistening through the gloom, | |
| Legions of angels bright and fair | 15 |
| Throng to that wondrous tomb. | |
| |
| “Praise be to God on high! | |
| The triumph-hour is near: | |
| The Lord hath won the victory, | |
| The foe is vanquished here! | 20 |
| Dark grave, yield up the dead; | |
| Give up thy prey, thou earth: | |
| In death he bowed his sacred head— | |
| He springs anew to birth! | |
| |
| “Sharp was the wreath of thorns | 25 |
| Around his suffering brow; | |
| But glory rich his head adorns, | |
| And angels crown him now. | |
| Roll yonder rock away | |
| That bars the marble-gate; | 30 |
| And gather we in bright array | |
| To swell the Victor’s state! | |
| |
| “Hail, hail, hail! | |
| The Lord is risen indeed! | |
| The curse is made of none avail; | 35 |
| The sons of men are freed!” | |
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