Send Him the light of Thy face;
Grant to him grace,
Brave in the battle, his shield
Never to yield!
God of the zephyr and gale,
That is a nail
Holding the hand of my dream
Hard to the beam!
God of the good Paraclete,
Both of his feet
Bleed while the sentinels toss
Dice near a cross!
God of the magic of morn,
Crimsoning thorn
Crowns him! Oh, hark to his cry:
"Sabachthani?"
God of the laughter and tear,
That is a spear
Stained with the red drops that start
Under his heart!
God of the glamour and gloom,
Into the tomb
Low is he laid; see, a stone
Leaves me alone!
God of the lily and vine,
Is he not mine?
Balms for his body I bear,
Myrrh for his hair.
Love! who rolled the stone away?
Bright as the day,
Shineth thy brow, and thy face
Gleams with a grace
Caught from the whispering wings
Of One who sings:
"There is no death!" Lo, the tomb
Breaks into bloom!
God of a woman's wide love,
Under, above,
Over the earth there is light
Sprung from the night;