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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
HOLLY AND EASTER-LILIES. 
 
[flOLLY AND 
 gASTERlJlLIES 
 
 By Alfred Lambourne 
 
I. 
 
 THF LJSftAftY OF 
 CONGRESS. 
 
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 COPYRIGHT, 1902, 
 
 BY 
 
 ALFRED LAMBOURNE. 
 
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HOLLY AND EASTER-LILIES. 
 
 I. 
 
 ULL on the morn doth rise 
 
 the Easter-Hymn; 
 Glad words of praise this 
 
 time auspicious hail; 
 Of that event beyond the 
 years grown dim, 
 Sweet living voices sing the wondrous tale. 
 The world's great miracle anew they tell 
 In joyous accents, pure, and silver clear; 
 The tidings marvelous, exultant swell, 
 With words of promise, fill the listening 
 
 ear. 
 Hark ! how the thoughts inspiring buoy- 
 ant rise. 
 As unto tribes and peoples countless 
 
 sung; 
 The message told to all beneath the skies, 
 In ancient speech or fresh-created tongue — 
 The hymn that One Beloved glorifies 
 All varied climes and distant lands among. 
 
II. 
 
 SEE! while strains of Easter 
 
 joyance grow, 
 Three masters, holly-wreath'd, 
 
 look from the wall — 
 One who the fairness of the 
 earth did show, 
 One from whose lips all beauty-truths did 
 
 fall. 
 And one who purest sang in golden 
 
 rhyme — 
 Supreme in art, in eloquence and song, 
 Not merely for a day but for all time. 
 Three masters whom the world will cher- 
 ish long ! 
 But what of Him, Great Master of all men. 
 Who, kiss-betrayed, yet for all sorrow 
 
 wept? 
 Who Mercy added to commandments ten; 
 By whose sad tomb the Roman vigil kept; 
 Who first appeared unto the loved one's 
 
 ken; 
 He who awoke the chords of love that 
 slept ? 
 
III. 
 
 HE Christmas Holly in the 
 wreaths is dead; 
 Each crisp and withered leaf 
 is wan of hue, 
 J As drops of precious blood, 
 its berries red, 
 Like those that once the cruel spear- 
 point drew. 
 And underneath the sad, death-conquered 
 
 leaves, 
 Fit emblems of distrust's and fear's dark 
 
 hour, 
 Uprises from the mold and life achieves — 
 Breaks into crowns the tall, white, Easter 
 
 Flower. 
 And here the eyes filled with a love pro- 
 found, 
 His who makes sacred still that far-off 
 
 morn, 
 One more than all the proudest kings 
 
 renowned — 
 The world's wide Light though in a 
 
 stable born, 
 Who was with lilies nor with myrtle 
 
 crowned. 
 He who wore here instead the crown of 
 thorn. 
 
IV. 
 
 OOK ! the Messiah, low in 
 manger laid ! 
 Whose birth the gates of hope 
 
 did swift unbar; 
 To whom the shepherds 
 adoration paid; 
 The Magi, star-led, came from lands afar; 
 Who o'er each little head fond blessings 
 
 spake; 
 Between the pair of thieves was crucified; 
 Who with His blood did world-atonement 
 
 make, 
 Now wears a crown of light on earth 
 
 denied. 
 The Lord and Master who did suffer pain, 
 Who labored meek amid the cedar chips; 
 The learned Rabbis tasked as youth, in 
 
 vain, 
 Who was reviled,mock-sceptered,scourged 
 
 with whips: 
 The Parable of Lilies hear again, 
 Sweet words that trembled on His full, 
 ripe lips. 
 
V. 
 
 O! He whose words still seek 
 the human heart, 
 Jesus of Nazareth, Mary's 
 loved son. 
 Whose fame is known in ham- 
 let, town and mart, 
 Resplendent grown from lowliness begun. 
 He who would ease the laden human 
 
 breast. 
 Rebuked the Pharisees who fain would 
 
 kill; 
 Who on a stone needs lay His head in 
 
 rest 
 Twixt Bethlehem and Calvary's dark hill. 
 O, at the door is that low summons 
 
 heard — 
 Will now unfold the rusted bolt and lock ? 
 Can love and duty longer be deferred 
 To gentle shepherd who would lead His 
 
 flock? 
 Rank nettles, ivy, noisome weeds, all gird 
 The closed door where long He stands to 
 knock. 
 
VI. 
 
 |H, CHRIST, loved Son of 
 Man, we saw Thy cross ! 
 Full hard the cross of doubt 
 
 and pain to bear; 
 What gift of knowledge shall 
 make up the loss, 
 If we to empty despond are made heir? 
 If trust and confidence to questions turn, 
 When love and hope are made the sport 
 
 of time; 
 If in the brain all wisdom anxious burn, 
 And cold doubt lies upon the heart like 
 
 slime? 
 O, unto doubt itself, Ye bring a hope — 
 Unbound by selfish or by narrow creed, 
 That bids us mid dead formalisms grope. 
 That leaned on, fails us like a broken 
 
 reed, — 
 But like Thy mighty love of boundless 
 
 scope — 
 With cross we follow where Thy footsteps 
 lead! 
 
VII. 
 
 HE CROSS of earth, we 
 carry in the dark, 
 Grope for the pleasure that 
 
 we seldom find; 
 The marshy light mistake for 
 sacred spark, 
 And stumble oft, blind leaders of the 
 
 blind. 
 Yet truth to reach, to grasp, our thoughts 
 
 aspire. 
 We fain would out the mass of error 
 
 burst. 
 But, in the strife unequal, oft we tire, 
 As men upon a desert parch with thirst. 
 O sinfulness the stream of life pollutes, 
 And acrid sorrow doth the heart corrode; 
 Upon our lips is taste of dead-sea fruits, 
 The flesh is weak beneath its heavy load; 
 In sore distress we cry, or else are mute, 
 Faint and aweary, on life's toilsome road. 
 
VIII, 
 
 WAY with all sad thoughts, 
 ffjl^^SA t'^is time of bloom ! 
 t/m'^^^4 Hail now, bright joy of fresh- 
 awakened spring, 
 The Easter-Lilies and the 
 broken tomb, 
 When nature, one vast choir, begins to 
 
 sing ! 
 The crumbling holly tells of death, alas ! 
 But on each limb, the bursting buds all 
 
 gleam; 
 And warm, the south winds touch the 
 
 cheek, and pass 
 In whispers soft, that benedictions seem. 
 So, after winter's cold and driven sleet, 
 The blood is stirred like sap within the 
 
 tree; 
 And ways are filled with little children 
 
 sweet. 
 As those of whom He said, "Come unto 
 
 me, 
 With faces happy and with tripping feet, 
 Voices they raise in gladsome jubilee. 
 
IX. 
 
 TRAPPINGS white, slow 
 the white horses come, 
 White is the hearse, and white 
 
 plumes sway above; 
 White flowers upon white 
 casket where lips dumb, 
 No more shall answer to a mother's love. 
 And those too young to understand 
 
 Death's might, 
 With wondering pity in each guileless eye, 
 On this glad morning, gaze upon the 
 
 sight, 
 Until the last black carriage has rolled by. 
 Yes, hushed each voice that waged a merry 
 
 strife; 
 And Christmas Holly withers on the door ! 
 But there the lilies grow with beauty rife. 
 There is the face of Him who sorrow 
 
 bore — 
 "I am the Resurrection and the Life. 
 Behold; I am alive forevermore !" 
 
X. 
 
 |H. CHRIST, the awful mys- 
 tery we see, 
 The tireless shadow never- 
 more is strange; 
 Life out of death, and death 
 that life may be; 
 From death to life, life, death, in endless 
 
 change. 
 What lies behind the veil, we fain would 
 
 know; 
 That secret of the soul grows never old; 
 All human prides to dark oblivion go; 
 The graves of earth, all things of earth 
 
 enfold. 
 O, as a meteor vanisheth, we die; 
 The common end doth come to one and 
 
 all; 
 Thrones topple, and to low is brought the 
 
 high; 
 The strong, the weak, the poor, the 
 
 mighty, fall; 
 In nothingness all vanities doth lie; 
 And time o'er time is gathered like a pall. 
 
XI. 
 
 AS THE holly-wreaths of 
 
 Christmas fade, 
 So all of brightest comes to 
 
 saddened close ! 
 O, as the lily on the scythe's 
 keen blade, 
 So lie the innocent the Pale One mows. 
 From age to age, the will of man is broke, 
 Not of his giving, lease, or grant, may 
 
 stand, 
 His head must bow to meet the coming 
 
 stroke. 
 His purpose holds but as the running 
 
 sand. 
 O, still is need of Thy sweet acts of grace, 
 For fear and lust yet hold the world in 
 
 fee; 
 The merciless to pity slow gives place, 
 And tides of war flow like the tides of sea; 
 And dust of dust o'er all the world we 
 
 trace. 
 The countless dead who slumber still in 
 Thee. 
 
XII. 
 
 EA, all the dead of ages 
 slumber still, 
 ^ And their lost voices come to 
 us no more, 
 They rise not up, come forth 
 on plain nor hill. 
 Ascend to life, from ocean's sunken floor! 
 Yet, take our lives and mould them unto 
 
 Thine, 
 Take our poor love for that deep love Ye 
 
 gave; 
 Let Thine example through the darkness 
 
 shine. 
 And peace as sweet be ours unto the 
 
 grave. 
 O, well Ye taught, no guide can love 
 
 surpass. 
 That Bure it leads unto the Father's throne; 
 This central thought did leaven all the 
 
 mass — 
 The mystic words, the deeds of mercy 
 
 shown. 
 Yea, Christ, Thou Gentle One, Thou art 
 
 the glass— 
 The heart supreme, wherein true love is 
 shown. 
 
XIII. 
 
 H E might of loving, Christ 
 revealeth us — 
 May we that lesson in its 
 
 fulness learn ! 
 O, falsely speaks that tongue 
 and slanderous, 
 That doth to menace Thy sweet preach 
 
 ments turn. 
 From out the clay and mire Thou lifteth 
 
 up, 
 Thou mak'st us feel within our breasts the 
 
 good. 
 Yea, all unseen, Thou com'st with us to 
 
 sup,_ 
 Fill us with joy of noble brotherhood. 
 No; not that we are only lost and vile — 
 We feel a virtue on our foreheads sealed, 
 Within our hearts, a strength that is not 
 
 guile, 
 A will that bids us not to baseness yield: 
 Our lives and thoughts, O may they not 
 
 revile 
 The Christmas Holly, Lilies of the Field. 
 
XIV. 
 
 O ! as at morn a dove that 
 upward springs, 
 Bathes glad its plumage in 
 
 expanse of light, 
 So we, within Thy love, O 
 King of Kings, 
 Rejoice in hope that follows after night. 
 The weary soul doth ever near Thee draw; 
 In Thy compassion dwells a faith secure, 
 All tenderness and just. Thy simple law; 
 Thy life, all spotless as the lilies pure. 
 Yes; love shall triumph, blameless Prince 
 
 of Peace ! 
 And one by one the creeds of hate decay; 
 Thy gentle message gives the world 
 
 release, 
 As time moves onward to a clearer day — 
 O, may Thy loving conquest never cease, 
 As all the future ages roll away ! 
 
jpunau® 
 
^^C 12 1902 
 
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