See how the nails those hands And feet so tender rend; See down his face and neck and breast His sacred blood descend. Hark, with what awful cry His spirit takes its flight, That cry, it smote his mother's heart, And wrapt her soul in night." Earth hears, and to its base Rocks wildly to and fro; How doth the ensanguined thorny crown He bows his head, and forth at last Yet even after death his heart For us its tribute pours. Beneath the wine-press of God's wrath His blood for us he drains; Tombs burst; seas, rivers, mountains quake; Till for himself, O wondrous love! HEAVIER THE CROSS. "Je grösser Kreuz, je näher Himmel." HEAVIER the cross, the nearer heaven; No cross without, no God within! Heavier the cross, the better Christian; Heavier the cross, the stronger faith: When men have pressed the clustered fruit; From vales we climb to mountain-crest; Close and still the cell that holds him, While in brief repose he lies; Veiled awhile from mortal eyes, - Fierce and deadly was the anguish Till the toil of death was o'er! Whither hath his soul departed? Roams it on some blissful shore, Or, on some benignant mission, Gleams of hope and mercy lent? 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. Far away amidst the regions Of the bright and balmy East, Till death's slumber shall have ceased, Far away; yet thought would wander Over that sepulchral bed. THE RESURRECTION AND THE ASCENSION. Haste, from every clime and nation, Fervent youth and reverent age; Peasant, prince, each rank and station, Haste, and join this pilgrimage. East and west, and south and north, Send your saintliest spirits forth. 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. Matron grave and blooming maiden, Hoary sage and beardless boy, Hearts with grief and care o'erladen, Hearts brimful of hope and joy, Men of God, devoutly toiling In the hearts of humankind; Ye who roam our seas and mountains, Messengers of love and light; Ye who guard truth's sacred fountains, Weary day and wakeful night; Men of labor, men of lore, Give your toils and studies o'er. Dwellers in the woods and valleys, Ye of meek and lowly breast; Ye who, pent in crowded alleys, Labor early, late take rest; Leave the plough, and leave the loom; Meet us at our Saviour's tomb. From your halls of stately beauty, Sculptured roof and marble floor, In this work of Christian duty Haste, ye rich, and join the poor. Mean and noble, bond and free, Meet in frank equality. Lo, his grave! the gray 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. And the morn with floods of splendor Fills the spicy midnight air; Tranquil sounds, and voices tender, Speak of life and gladness there; Ne'er was living thing, I wot, Bird and beast and insect rover, 761 Heavenly thought to him could yield. All that is to him did prove Food for wisdom, food for love. But the hearts that bowed before him Most of all to him were dear; Let such hearts to-night watch o'er him Till the dayspring shall appear. Then a brighter sun shall rise Than e'er kindled up the skies. All night long, with plaintive voicing, From to-morrow's harps shall flow. ANGELS, ROLL THE ROCK AWAY! THOMAS SCOTT, author of "Lyric Poems and Hymns, Devotional and Moral," son of a dissenting minister of Norwich, England, was born about the year 1700, and died about 1776, at Hupton, in Norfolk. This hymn is much changed from its original form, in which it had nine stanzas, and was entitled "The Resurrection and Ascension." ANGELS, roll the rock away! Hallelujah! hallelujah! |