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

Restored die cut of kissing children and pansies.

 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.