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"They have taken away my Lord."
Y Lord," though dead, yet still "my Lord:"
If He who in Himself had shone
Living the truth else guessed by none,
He from Whom life and peace she drew,
And worshipped more, the more she knew,
If that pure life of perfect love,
Extinguished, never more should beam, What joy could endless days above
Bring ever more, not bringing Him?
What were those angel-forms to her,
Their radiant forms and raiment white,
If dead within a sepulchre
He lay, Himself the Life and Light?
Thus when the bridge of faith was rent,.
Which could have firmly spanned the gulf, Love prostrate o'er the chasm leant,
And bridged the dark abyss herself.
'Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself and saith unto Him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master."
MOMENT since, a sepulchre
Was all the world she cared to own,
And now the living Lord was there,
The voice the fiends once fled in fear
No language could that bliss have told,
She said but "Master!" as of old,
Yet all heaven's choirs could scarcely twine
Than when, as from His heart to thine,
"Go quickly and tell His disciples that He is risen."
Slj^lELL all the world the Lord is risen — ja fftl The Easter message, ever new;
The grave is hut a ruined prison, Invincible, the Life breaks through.
Earth cannot long ensepulchre
In her dark depths the tiniest seed;
When life begins to throb and stir,
No clods its upward course deter,
One germ of life is mightier
Yet not one leaf-blade ever stirred,
Bursting earth's wintry dungeons dim,
But lived at His creative word,
Since, then, the life that He bestows
What power of earth or death can close
And, as the least up-springing grain
That light the victory shall gain,
That death is weak, and life is strong;
So, with immortal vigour rife,
The lowliest life that faith has freed
Bears witness still that Christ is life,