Christ, our Lord, is risen to-day!
LXXXIX.
Think, my soul, in every land
How, in holy aisles, they stand;
Christians—who with every tongue,
Lauds, and anthems high, have sung;
And all night long, pale vigil kept,
As Magdalene and Mary wept,
With lowly heart, but lifted eye,
Gazing raptly on the sky,