Easter Song

Easter Song

by Louisa Parsons Hopkins

THE song of the sap
From its mother's lap
Springing to welcome the Easter Day;
The song of the wood
That groweth good
With the sap that riseth and will not stay;

Clear harmonies
Of the fluted trees, -
The organ-pipes of the bird and bee ;
The voice that wells
From the leaflet-cells, -
A hidden murmur of melody!

The opening sheath
Of the willow's wreath;
Chorus of birds, high carolling;
The cymballed psalm
Of the air's soft palm
Closing after the cleaving wing;

The patter of showers,
The waving flowers,
The symphony of the south wind free;
The vibrant harp
Of the ice-clad scarp,
Struck to the chord of the sounding sea;

The whir of wings,
The bubbling springs,
The bursting ice and the melting snow;
The rapid's roar
And the rippling shore,
The unchained brooks and the rivers' flow;

The nestling broods,
The interludes
Of chirp and trill, of coo and call;
The loosening hold
Of the leaf-bud's fold,
And the resurrection of each and all!

Let the paean rise
In the eastern skies,
While planets sing on their mystic ways;
With heart and voice
Earth and heaven rejoice,
And the song of life be a song of praise!

With Palm Branches

With Palm Branches

by Lucy Larcom

MY soul hastens forth with hosannas,
To wave for the Victor her palm;
Every hope presses forward to meet Him,
Every thought rises up with a psalm.

The stones of the roadside sing praises;
Praise ripples the brook by the way;
The dumb heart of Nature rejoices;
Even silence is vocal to-day.

He goeth to cruel betrayal, -
The thorns and the spear-thrust to meet:
He refuseth no drop of death's anguish, -
The bitterness Love shall make sweet.

We would taste Thy cup with Thee, O Master!
We would share in Thy life, through Thy death!
For Thy sacrifice makes us immortal,
And we live but in breathing Thy breath.

Ride onward, O King of the lowly,
And trample our pride in Thy path!
Let us follow Thee, asking no honor
Save the blessing humility hath!

Ride on, and release us from evil!
Ride on, and redeem us from sin!
Every gate of our being flies open:
Ride on, to Thy Kingdom within!

Thine Easter Day

 Thine Easter Day

by Mary Lowe Dickinson

Within thy heart is there an opened tomb?
Have God's strong angels rolled the stone
away?
Rises thy dead self from its bonds of clay?
Breaks Heaven's sweet light across the dark and
gloom?
Then is this day in truth thine Easter day!

If broken down are stony gates of pride,
If shrouding bands of earth are torn away,
If sin and wrath and scorn in thee have died,
Mourn not the past. The folded shroud beside
Angels will watch; - it is thine Easter day.

Rise, new-born soul, and put thine armor on;
Clasp round thy breast the garment of the light;
Gird up thy loins for battle. In the fight
He leads who upward from our sight has gone;
It is His day; there's no more death nor night,

No dark, no hurt, no more sharp shame nor loss;
All buried, hidden 'neath the grave's dark sod;
All ways forgotten, save the road He trod;
All burdens naught in sight of His - the cross;
All joy, alive and safe with Christ in God!

Easter Day

Easter Day 

by Sara Henderson Smith

Over the solemn night

Quivers the first dim light,

Sent forth to herald in the Christian Sabbath birth;

And like that feeble ray,

Scarce chasing gloom away.

Flickers the dawn of Faith, o'er the sin-darkened earth.

Faintly the morning beam,

By Cedron's cooling stream,

And dark Gethsemane, piercing the misty veil.

Reveals the sepulchre,

And its lone watcher - her

Who lingering still, pours forth her grief in low, deep

wail.

Mary, why weepest thou?"

Forgiven, sinless, now;

So soon the echo lost, that bade thee "go in peace."

Still in the cold, damp air,

Rises the grief-taught prayer.

Her Lord is taken hence, nor may her mourning cease.

"Mary, why weepest thou?"

Forgiven, sinless now!

Bowed to the earth, not then her Master's voice she

hears;

"Mary!" the thrilling tone

Now to her heart has gone.

Love taught her first to weep; Love has dried up her

tears.

Disciple of the Lord,

Who trembles at His word,

Be strong, like hers, thy love, tho' faith be dimmed

and weak.

Go wait, and watch, and pray, -

Turn not, if He delay, -

He knows thee by thy name, and to thy heart will speak.

E'en now the angel band

In light around thee stand -

Repentant and forgiven, asking, "Why weepest thou?"

But not till He appears

To gather up thy tears

They gem the love-wrought crown that glitters on

His brow.

Ring, Happy Bells!

Ring, Happy Bells!

by Lucy Larcom

RING, happy bells of Easter time!

The world is glad to hear your chime;

Across wide fields of melting snow

The winds of summer softly blow,

And birds and streams repeat the chime

Of Easter time.

Ring, happy bells of Easter time!

The world takes up your chant sublime,

"The Lord is risen! "The night of fear

Has passed away, and heaven draws near:

We breathe the air of that blest clime,

At Easter time.

Ring, happy bells of Easter time!

Our happy hearts give back your chime!

The Lord is risen ! We die no more:

He opens wide the heavenly door;

He meets us, while to Him we climb,

At Easter time.

One Easter Lily's Mission

ONE EASTER LILY'S MISSION

by Ada Stewart Shelton

The first faint flush of the fair Easter

dawn

Touched with its tender light a lily's

face,

So pure and fair that one would scarce

believe

It could find life in such a dreary

place.

High up amid the roof-tops crowded

close

Of wretched dwellings, stairways lead-

ing in

To darkened alleys, there the fair flower

grew,

O'erlooking want and misery and sin.

"My sisters sweet and fair will hail this

morn;

Within the churches' walls, with win-

ning grace,

They will proclaim to-day the Easter

joy;

E'en on the altar they will find a

place.

"What part is given to me this Easter

Day?

In all its gladness I can have no

share;

For even those who watch my leaves

unfold

Do scarcely know the day whose name

I bear."

Soon one drew near whose touch was

coarse and rough,

Withal the heart that guided it was

kind;

"The child that moans below shall have

my flower,

Maybe 'twill bring some comfort to

her mind."

Down the steep stairway, through the

alley dark,

Was the white lily carried, oh, so fair!

It seemed in passing through the dreary

place

To leave a benediction on the air.

Within a wretched, comfortless, dim

room,

Moaning with pain, with fever's vague

unrest,

A young child lay; with smile of radiant

joy

She clasped the Easter lily to her breast.

"Oh! is it really mine?" she mur-

mured low,

"It almost takes the pain; " the fair

flower lay

Close, closer pressed within that burning

hand,

Until at night both lives had ebbed

away.

Sweet was the life that the fair lily gave,

Though in the church's beauty she had

borne no share;

Lowly the work that waits in many a

path,

Rich are the blessings that lie hidden

there.

He Is Risen

He Is Risen

by Louisa Parsons Hopkins

He is risen He is not here!" 

Come the dark grave anear
And see the angel of light
In his robe of dazzling white
To your longing eyes appear!

Listen ! Be of good cheer!
Love shall dispel all fear;
Fled is the sad, lone night;
" He is risen!"

O Lord and Savior dear!
Make the truth shine so clear
Unto our grief-dimmed sight,
Make the glad word so bright,
As to dry every tear:
" He is risen ! "

The Easter Guest

 The Easter Guest 
by Mary Lowe Dickinson

I Knew Thou wert coming, O Lord Divine, 

I felt in the sunlight a softened shine,
And a murmur of welcome I thought I heard,
In the ripple of brooks and the chirp of bird;
And the bursting buds and the springing grass
Seemed to be waiting to see Thee pass;
And the sky, and the sea, and the throbbing sod
Pulsed and thrilled to the touch of God.

I knew Thou wert coming, O Love Divine,
To gather the world's heart up to Thine;
I knew the bonds of the rock-hewn grave
Were riven, that living Thy life might save.
But blind and wayward I could not see
Thou wert coming to dwell with nie^ e'en me ;
And my heart o'erburdened with care and sin.
Had no fair chambers to take Thee in :

Not one clean spot for Thy foot to tread,
Not one pure pillow to rest Thy head;
There was nothing to offer, no bread, no wine, 

No oil of joy in this heart of mine;

And yet the light of Thy kingly face

Illumed for Thyself a small dark place,

And I crept to the spot by Thy smile made sweet,

And the tears came ready to wash Thy feet.

Now let me come nearer, O Lord Divine,

Make in my soul for Thyself a shrine;

Cleanse, till the desolate place shall be

Fit for a dwelling, dear Lord, for Thee.

Rear, if Thou wilt, a throne in my breast,

Reign, I will worship and serve my guest.

While Thou art in me - and in Thee I abide -

No end can come to the Easter-tide.

Easter-Tide by Mary Lowe Dickinson

Easter-Tide

"Life for us is in His dying!"

So our humbled souls keep crying;

While the Lenten tears fall faster

At the grave that shrouds the Master,

Till within that gloomy garden

Shines His presence and His pardon -

Glimpse of Easter glory giving -

Then, "Our life is in His living!"

While He, patient, waits the voicing

Of our triumph and rejoicing;

Filled with our own hearts' devices,

Still we bring our burial spices.

Yet the Love whose taking hallows

Our poor gifts of myrrh and aloes,

Rainbows e'en our tears, and raises

Broken, trembling prayers to praises.

Watcher where His grave glooms darken,

Lift thy shadowed soul, and harken!

Hear the strong, triumphant singing

Of the risen Christ, loud ringing

In glad anthems from the portals

Of the home of the Immortals!

" Sealed no longer death's dark prison -

Christ, the Conqueror, is risen!"

Tarry not to place thy finger

In the wounds where nail-prints linger;

Leave the linen clothes that bound Him;

Sing, with Mary, "I have found Him!"

Be thy mighty love the token

That for thee His heart was broken.

Whom the living Christ hath shriven.

Knows, e'en here, the peace of Heaven.

Death in Christ is dawning gladness;

Life in Christ is robbed of sadness;

Faith in Christ that will not falter

Crowns with Easter bloom His altar,

Decks His shrine in sweetness vernal,

Lives with Christ the life eternal.

Tells in song and chime and story,

All a risen Savior's glory.

An Easter Song

An Easter Song

by Susan Coolidge

A song of sunshine through the rain,

Of spring across the snow,

A balm to heal the hurts of pain,

A peace surpassing woe.

Lift up your heads, ye sorrowing ones,

And be ye glad of heart.

For Calvary and Easter Day,

Earth's saddest day and gladdest day.

Were just one day apart!

With shudder of despair and loss

The world's deep heart was wrung.

As lifted high upon his cross

The Lord of Glory hung,

When rocks were rent, ghostly forms

Stole forth in street and mart;

But Calvary and Easter day.

Earth's blackest day and whitest day,

Were just one day apart!

No hint or whisper stirred the air

To tell what joy should be;

The sad disciples, grieving there.

Nor help nor hope could see.

Yet all the while the glad, near sun

Made ready its swift dart,

And Calvary and Easter Day,

The darkest day and brightest day,

Were just one day apart!

Oh, when the strife of tongues is loud,

And the heart of hope beats low.

When the prophets prophesy of ill.

And the mourners come and go,

In this sure thought let us abide.

And keep and stay our heart,

That Calvary and Easter Day

Earth's heaviest day and happiest day.

Were but one day apart!

The Boy and The Angel

The Boy and The Angel 

by Robert Browning

Morning, evening, noon, and night,
" Praise God ! " sang Theocrite.

Then to his poor trade he turned,
Whereby the daily meal was earned.

Hard he labored, long and well;
O'er his work the boy's curls fell.

But ever, at each period,
He stopped and sang, " Praise God!"

Then back again his curls he threw,
And cheerful turned to work anew.

Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done;"
I doubt not thou art heard my son :

" As well as if thy voice to-day
Were praising God, the Pope's great way.

" This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome
Praises God from Peter's dome."

Said Theocrite, " Would God that I
Might praise him that great way, and die!"

Night passed, day shone,
And Theocrite was gone.

With God a day endures alway,
A thousand years are but a day.

God said in heaven, " Nor day nor night
Now brings the voice of my delight."

Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth.
Spread his wings and sank to earth;

Entered, in flesh, the empty cell.
Lived there, and played the craftsman well;

And morning, evening, noon and night.
Praised God in place of Theocrite.

And from a boy to youth he grew:
The man put off the stripling's hue:

The man matured and fell away
Into the season of decay:

And ever o'er the trade he bent.
And ever lived on earth content.

(He did God's will; to him, all one
If on the earth or in the sun.)

God said, " A praise is in mine ear;
There is no doubt in it, no fear:

"So sing old worlds, and so
New worlds that from my footstool go.

"Clearer loves sound other ways:
I miss my little human praise."

Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell
The flesh disguise, remained the cell.

'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome,
And paused above Saint Peter's dome.

In the tiring-room close by
The greater outer gallery,

With his holy vestments, dight.
Stood the new Pope, Theocrite:

And all his past career
Came back upon him clear,

Since when, a boy, he plied his trade,
Till on his life the sickness weighed;

And in his cell, when death drew near,
An angel in a dream brought cheer:

And rising from the sickness drear,
He grew a priest, and now stood here.

To the East with praise he turned.
And on his sight the angel burned.

"I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell,
I set thee here; I did not well.

"Vainly I left my angel-sphere.
Vain was thy dream of many a year.

" Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped,
Creation's chorus stopped!

" Go back and praise again
The early way while I remain. 

" With that weak voice of our disdain,
Take up creation's pausing strain.

Back to the cell and poor employ:
Resume the craftsman and the boy!"

Theocrite grew old at home;
Gabriel dwelt in Peter's dome.

One vanished as the other died:
They sought God side by side.

To Violets

To Violets

by Robbert Herrick

Welcome, maids of honor,

You do bring

In the Spring,

And wait upon her.

She has virgins many.

Fresh and fair ;

Yet you are

More sweet than any.

Y' are the Maiden Posies,

And so graced.

To be placed,

'Fore damask roses.

Yet though thus respected.

By and by

Ye do lie,

Poor girls, neglected.

May

MAY

by James Gates Percival

I FEEL a newer life in every gale;

The winds, that fan the flowers,

And with their welcome breathings fill the

sail,

Tell of serener hours, --

Of hours that glide unfelt away

Beneath the sky of May.

The spirit of the gentle south- wind calls

From his blue throne of air,

And where his whispering voice in music falls,

Beauty is budding there;

The bright ones of the valley break

Their slumbers, and awake.

The waving verdure rolls along the plain,

And the wide forest weaves.

To welcome back its playful mates again,

A canopy of leaves;

And from its darkening shadow floats

A gush of trembling notes.

Return Of Spring

Return Of Spring

by Piere Ronsard

God shield ye, heralds of the spring.
Ye faithful swallows, fleet of wing,
Houps, cuckoos, nightingales.
Turtles, and every wilder bird,
That make your hundred chirpings heard
Through the green woods and dales.

God shield ye, Easter daisies all.
Fair roses, buds, and blossoms small,
And lie whom erst the gore
Of Ajax and Narciss did print,
Ye wild thyme, anise, balm, and mint,
I welcome ye once more.

God shield ye, bright embroider'd train
Of butterflies, that on the plain.
Of each sweet herblet sip;
And ye, new swarms of bees, that go 
Where the pink flowers and yellow grow.
To kiss them with your lip.

A hundred thousand times I call
A hearty welcome on ye all:
This season how I love--

This merry din on every shore--

For winds and storms, whose sullen roar
Forbade my steps to rove.

Easter a Day of Spiritual Joy

      Easter should be a day of spiritual joy, a day for celebration of the resurrection of spirit, a day in which spiritual considerations should be more prominent. Any secular or civil activities that interfere with pure spiritual observance of that day should be discouraged. Jesus Christ announced the important truth that the glory of his resurrection was the fruit of his Passion--I mean the accidental glory incident to his humanity, not the essential glory inherent in his divinity. While two of his disciples were going from Jerusalem to Emmaus, discoursing in the crucifixion, Jesus, in the guise of a stranger, joined them, and they said to him: "We had hoped that Christ would redeem Israel from gentile bondage and would reestablish the kingdom of a grander scale and rule as a conqueror. But our hopes are shaken, for he died a shameful death on the cross." And Jesus said to them: "Foolish and slow of heart to believe in all things which the prophets have spoken. Ought not Christ to have suffered these things and so enter into his glory?" If he had not trod the path of suffering and humiliation he would not be the Messiah foretold by the prophets. Cardinal Gibbons

"The Emmaus Road" by Steve Green

Heaven - Not Far Away.

Oh, heaven is nearer than mortal's think,

When they look with trembling dread,

At the misty future that stretches on,

From the silent home of the dead.

The eye that shuts in a dying hour,

Will open the next in bliss,

The welcome will sound in the heavenly world

Ere the farewell is hushed in this.

We pass from the clasp of mourning friends,

To the arms of the loved and lost;

And those smiling faces will greet us there,

Which on earth we have valued most.

Yet oft in the hours of holy thought,

To the thirsting soul is given,

That power to pierce through the mist of sense,

To the beauteous scenes of heaven.

I know when the silver cord is loosed,

When the vail is rent away,

Not long and dark shall the passage be,

To the realm of endless day.

The Savior Rose Today

Savior Rose Today

by Margherita Arlina Hamm

The lilies whisper to the bees;

The palm-leaves murmur to the breeze;

And birds in roundelay

Repeat the message high in air,

Until it echoes everywhere,

"The Savior rose to-day."

Full well the swaying blossom knows

How loving spring dispels the snows;

And songsters half behold

A truer life within the breast,

When newer life invades the nest

And mingles with the old;

It may be that a hidden sense

Reveals to their intelligence

The presence and the sway

Of Him who notes the sparrow's fall,

So that in gratitude they call,

"The Savior rose to-day."

Who, looking over time's long scroll

Cannot but see a master soul,

Behind the dross and clay

And realize that in the good

Which brought the world beatitude

"The Savior rose to-day."

The earth brings forth both bud and flower

By some unfailing subtle power

Which baffles all decay;

When into being sprang the world.

The flowering of mankind occurred,

"The Savior rose that day."

From ugliness new beauty springs;

From death life soars aloft on wings;

And evil dies away.

A splendor dissipates the gloom

And fear lies dead within the tomb,

"The Savior rose to-day."

An old hymn with a new chorus. "Christ the Lord is Risen Today"

Shine On, Most Glorious Light

Shine On, Most Glorious Light 

by Kenyon West.

Shine on! Shine ever on, most glorious Light!

Reveal Thy majesty and splendor bright.

This Easter morning as of old arise!

Make glad the earth as with a glad surprise.

By magic power, as of old, change night

Into the benediction of the dawn,--

With promise to us of the darkness gone!

Shine on! Shine ever on, most glorious Light!

This Easter morn arise! arise!

Give saner vision to our sin-dimmed eyes;

To hearts that wait and watch for Thee, come near!

Thy miracle of wondrous love make clear.

Make cold hearts glow; make weak hearts strong.

Dispel our grim despairs, our sense of wrong.

From doubt's stern thraldom grant us Lord, release!

Give freedom, faith and Thy surpassing peace!

Thus only can we hope to live:--

Health, healing, blessing, --give! oh give!

Song "God's Glorious Light" - Michael O'Brien and Thomas Miller

Lenten Thoughts by Elisabeth R. Scovil

Lenten Thoughts 

"Come apart and rest awhile."
'Tis thy Saviour's call to thee.
" From thy pleasures and thy cares
Turn aside awhile with Me."

And the Church, His Bride on earth,
Echoes still His voice to-day,
In this holy Lenten tide,
"Turn aside," she says, "and pray."

Thou did' St keep the Christmas Feast
With a glad and willing heart.
Joining in the angels' song;
In the Fast now bear thy part.

Friends and neighbors round thee press.
Thronging duties claim thy care;
Little time to thee seems left
To be spent in quiet prayer. 

Our Lord trod this busy earth,

Lived its life of toil and haste;

Knows how much thou hast to do;

Would He bid thee time to waste?

Yet He says, " Come rest awhile."

From the outward, look within,

Learn to know thyself, and find

How to conquer secret sin.

In the desert, with thy Lord,

Tell Him all thy troubles sore,

Weariness, and pain, and grief,

He has borne them too - and more.

He will pity, help, and heal,

Aid thee in the mortal strife;

Send thee back with strength renewed

For the warfare of thy life.

When His Easter morning dawns,

Having kept the fast with Him,

Joyful to His holy feast

He will bid thee enter in.

Ring Loud, O Easter Bells!

Ringloud, O bells of Easter, your peals through spaces ring;
With joy the fair earth greets you through all the notes of spring.
Ring in all peace and gladness, ring out all strife and tears,
As downward through the ages you've rung the passing years.

Ring clear, O bells, your message throughout all nature thrills;
It all things living touches, as when from Judah's hills
There rose the light triumphant o'er death and mortal fears,
And dawned that first great Easter-the Easter of the years.

Ring sweet, O bells, your lesson unto each heart to-day;
That all before the Master may but life's lilies lay;
Ring soft-ring low; your chiming may bridge some past- its tears,
For those, perchance, who mourneth some Easter in the years.

Again, O bells of Easter, ring out in thrilling peal,
That we, through all our pulses the newborn glory feel;
God's living, loving presence, as each new spring appears
In all that breathes around us, throughout the march of years.
by Beatrice Harlowe

"He is Risen" by Keith Green

Easter Morning...

What shall I bring Thee, Lord:

For the crowns of thorns and the jibing tongue,

And Thy tender body on Calvary hung,

For the gall and cruel sword,

What shall I bring Thee Lord?

What dost Thou give me Lord?

For a crown of thorns, a crown of peace,

From the cross of sin a sweet release,

From evil deed and word

A sweet deliverance, Lord.

Then shall I greet Thee, Lord

Glad, with my rayment shining white,

For the Easter morn is fair and bright,

And Thou whom they ignored

Hast triumphed, Christ, our Lord.