Borrow their blameless thoughts, their calm desires; And Christian matrons seek Thy spirit mild and meek, Thy holy wisdom; sons and reverend sires, By love like thine in Christian nurture rear'd, Still bless the mother's looks, the mother's tones revered. XLV. But hark! the trump of doom Whereon He sits alone, Who died upon the cross for human wrong. Mary, the child to whom thy womb gave birth, Unveil'd in glory stands; sole judge of heaven and earth. XLVI. And thee, and us, and all, That dreadful trump must call, To hear our several dooms by Him decreed: In terror of that day Vain fancy melts away, E'en Christian faith doth tremble like a reed Sway'd by the wind: we think of Thee no more; Our song is silent now; its music past and o'er. HYMN FOR EASTER EVE, APRIL 2, 1836. I. ALL is o'er the pain, the sorrow, II. Close and still the cell that holds him, While in brief repose he lies; Deep the slumber that enfolds him Veil'd awhile from mortal eyes: Slumber such as needs must be III. Fierce and deadly was the anguish Till the toil of death was o'er. IV. Whither hath his soul departed? Roams it on some blissful shore, Where the meek and faithful-hearted, Vext by this world's hate no more, V. Or, on some benignant mission, VI. Ask no more, the abyss is deeper E'en than angels' thoughts may scan; Come and watch the heavenly sleeper, Come and do what mortals can, Reverence meet toward Him to prove, Faith and trust and humble love. VII. Far away, amidst the regions Of the bright and balmy east, Guarded by angelic legions Till Death's slumber shall have ceased, (How should we its stillness stir ?) Lies the Saviour's sepulchre. VIII. Far away-yet thought would wander (Thought by Faith's sure guidance led), Farther yet to weep and ponder * 1 Peter, iii. 19, 20. G Over that sepulchral bed. Thither let us haste and flee On the wings of phantasy. IX. Haste, from every clime and nation, Fervent youth, and reverend age; Peasant, prince, each rank and station, Haste, and join this pilgrimage; East and west, and south and north, Send your saintliest spirits forth. X. Mothers, ere the curtain closes Round your children's sleep to-night, Tell them how their Lord reposes, Waiting for to-morrow's light; Teach their dreams to Him to rove, Him who loved them, Him they love. XI. Matron grave and blooming maiden, Hoary sage and beardless boy, Hearts with grief and care o'erladen, Hearts brimful of hope and joy, Come and greet, in death's dark hall, Him who felt with, felt for all. XII. Men of God, devoutly toiling In the hearts of human kind; XIII. Ye who roam o'er seas and mountains, XIV. Dwellers in the woods and valleys, XV. From your halls of stately beauty, Lo, his XVI. grave the grey rock closes O'er that virgin burial ground; Near it breathe the garden roses, Trees funereal droop around; In whose boughs the small birds rest, And the stock-dove builds her nest. XVII. And the moon with floods of splendour Fills the spicy midnight air; |