III.—THE MARYS AT THE SEPULCHRE.
The first faint crimson of the early morning
Dawned on the tomb where the loved Master lay;
And on the Marys, who for His adorning
Came bearing spices sweet, at break of day.
In meek, mute reverence, near the sepulchre
The mourners drew, as round a sacred shrine—
And gazing down for the dear form divine—
The unsealed stone—the white-robed messenger—
Met their affrighted view! In awe they fled,