Brightest sunshine, sweetest flowers,
Welcome in the Easter-tide;
What a blessed work is ours
Lifting up The Crucified:
Pointing to the rock fresh riven,
To the grave-clothes cast aside,
Grand the proof that Christ has given,
He is living though He died.
Brightest sunshine, sweetest flowers,
Gracious gifts of Easter-tide
What a joyful work is ours
Lifting up The Crucified;
Showing Him as in a vision,
Stand triumphant o’er the grave:
From the sepulchre’s cold prison
He is risen, He will save.
HOWEVER HIGH THE AIM.
I cannot do the half that I desire
However high the aim the hands will tire;
However long the journey, do my best,
Though eager still to climb, the feet must rest.
Perhaps when hope is baffled it is meant
To teach the fuller meaning of content;
Countless are the blessings I must miss
Unless I keep the path to endless bliss.
HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP.
He giveth his beloved sleep
And sweetly shall they rest.
Oh, we must ceaseless vigil keep
If we would bear the test.
To-day is ours for good or ill
And if we now obey,
His promises he will fulfill
And wipe our tears away.