Was like the noise of waters in their power.
But in the Olive Mount, by night appearing,
Midst the dim leaves, your holiest work was done.
Whose was the voice that came divinely cheering,
Fraught with the breath of God to aid his Son?
—Haply of those that, on the moonlit plains,
Wafted good tidings unto Syrian swains.
Yet one more task was Yours! your heavenly dwelling,
Ye left, and by th’ unseal’d sepulchral stone,
In glorious raiment, sat; the weepers telling,