"Out of the hollow, gloomy gate,
The motley throngs came forth elate:
Each will the joy of the sunshine hoard,
To honor the day of the Risen Lord!
They feel themselves their resurrection:
From the low, dark rooms, scarce habitable;
From the bonds of Work, from Trade's restriction;
From the pressing weight of roof and gable;
From the narrow crushing streets and alleys;
From the churches' solemn and reverend night,