RESURREXIT

Henry Longan Stuart


All you that weep, all you that mourn,
All you that grieving go,
Lift up your eyes, your heads adorn,
Put off your weeds of woe.
The sorrows of the Passion week
Like tearful dreams are fled,
For He hath triumphed whom you seek,
Is risen – That was dead.


Oh! you who to the Sepulchre
At break of morning bring
The tribute of your spice and myrrh
To balm our murdered King,
Each cleft of His forsaken tomb
With Easter sun is red,
For He you laid amidst the gloom
Is risen that was dead.


See! all about the prostrate stone
Its abject sentries stand
Death, with his diadem downthrown,
And Fear, with fettered hand.
Lo! captive of the nails and spear
Captivity is led,
For Love, that conquers Death and Fear,
Is risen – That was Dead.