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 MINQ M. REVELL CO. 
 
Zbc %mnQ Christ. 
 
Ibe %Mng Cbrist: 
 
 Easter XCbouobts 
 
 tor 
 
 Cbe Iking's Bauobters. 
 
 MARY LOWE"^DlCKINSON, 
 
 General Secretary of the 0| 
 
 : 3f Icmina 1b. TRcvcU Co. : : 
 
 New York : 
 12 bible house, astor place. 
 
 Chicago : 
 
 148 and 150 MADISON STREET. 
 
 Ipublisbcrs of £vandclical literature. 
 
 \^^1 
 
"■& 
 
 Copyright, 1891, 
 FLEMING H. Revei.1. Company. 
 
Xovingl^ 3)e&icate& 
 ^be Central Council 
 
 " -Of- 
 
 ^be ©rDer ot **^be IRina's 2>au9btcr6 " 
 jEastej 'G:l^e, 1891* 
 
 JBs tbe Butbor. 
 
Unvocatton. 
 
 WELL Thou in all, O tender Christ 
 and sweet, 
 Who bring their Easter offerings 
 to Thy feet. 
 Let care, and bitterness, and sin find room, 
 To lie in death — in Thy deserted tomb. 
 Bid Thy strong Angels guard the sealed 
 
 door, 
 That self come forth, to curse Thy world no 
 
 more. 
 Thy life be life of all earth's precious things, 
 Thy throne the hearts that crown Thee 
 King of Kings. 
 
Zhc Xlvlng Cbdet 
 
 Y E, the lilies are pure in their pallor; 
 the roses are fragrant and sweet ; 
 The music pours out like a sea- 
 wave pulsing in praise at His feet, 
 Pulsing in passionate praises that Jesus is 
 
 risen again, 
 But we look for the signs of His living in the 
 hearts of the children of men. 
 
 Wherever a soft hand of pity falls soft on a 
 
 wound or a woe ; 
 Wherever a peace or a pardon springs up to 
 
 o'er-master a foe ; 
 Wherever a tender heart's mercy out-reaches 
 
 to succor a need ; 
 Wherever springs heahng for wounding, the 
 
 Master is risen indeed. 
 
Wherever the soul of a people arises in 
 
 courage and might, 
 And flings off the grave-bands that shrouded 
 
 '^5 its hope in the gloom of the night; 
 Wherever in sight of God's legions the 
 
 armies of evil recede 
 And truth wins a soul or a kingdom, — the 
 
 Master is risen indeed. 
 
 So fling out your banners, brave toilers, bring 
 
 lilies to altar and shrine. 
 Ring out, Easter bells, He is risen. For you 
 
 is the token and sign ; — 
 There's a world moving sunward and Godward, 
 
 Ye are called to the front, ye must lead; 
 Behind are the grave and the darkness; 
 
 The Master is risen indeed. 
 
lEaotcr Hilxce. 
 
 OT as we bring our garlands to a 
 tomb, 
 To breathe heart-fragrance o'er a 
 _-^ lost one's rest, 
 
 Bring we this wreath of sweetness and 
 of bloom 
 To cro\¥n this day, of all our days the best ; 
 
 But as if love, and gratitude and prayer, 
 Lying in grave-dark that enwrapped His 
 
 face, 
 Had seen His smile break forth with won- 
 drous grace 
 And sudden blossomed into beauty there. 
 
 As if along the way that felt His tread 
 Life burst from death as flowers from 
 
 the sod ; 
 So new life springs to meet the heart 
 of God, 
 In joyful praise that Christ no more is dead. 
 
ZTbe lEaater fIDora 
 
 Y thy Lenten sorrow led, 
 
 Wouldst thou weep beside the 
 
 dead, 
 Silent on His rock-hewn bed ? 
 Stealing, sobbing, through the gloom, 
 Would thy penitence find room, 
 Sackcloth-clad, within His tomb ? 
 
 Hush ! thy broken spirit's moan 
 Cannot pierce the gate of stone. 
 
 Entering where he lies, alone ; 
 Nor the clamor of thy cries 
 
 Once uplift the sealed eyes — 
 Cause the stricken form to rise. 
 
Were riven, that, living, Thy life might save. 
 But blind and wayward I could not see 
 Thou wert coming to dwell with me, e'en me; 
 And my heart o'erburdened with care and 
 
 sin, 
 Had no fair chambers to take Thee in : 
 
 Hot one clean spot for Thy foot to tread, 
 Not one pure pillow to rest Thy head ; 
 There was nothing to offer, no bread, no 
 
 wine. 
 No oil of joy in this heart of mine ; 
 And yet the light of Thy kingly face 
 Illumed for Thyself, a small, dark place, 
 And I crept to the spot by Thy smile made 
 
 sweet, 
 And tears came ready to wash Thy feet. 
 
 Now let me come nearer, O Lord Divine, 
 Make in my soul for Thyself a shrine ; 
 Cleanse, till the desolate place shall be 
 
Fit for a dwelling, dear Lord, for Thee* 
 Rear, if Thou wilt, a throne in my breast, 
 Reign, I will worship and serve my guest. 
 While Thou art in me— and in Thee 1 
 
 abide — 
 No end can come to the Easter tide. 
 
tCbe Jgaster (BncBt 
 
 ^KNEW Thou wert coming, O Lord 
 Divine, 
 I felt in the sunlight a softened 
 shine, 
 
 And a murmur of welcome I thought I heard, 
 In the ripple of brooks and the chirp of bird; 
 And the bursting buds and the springing grass 
 Seemed to be waiting to see Thee pass ; 
 And the sky, and the sea, and the throb- 
 bing sod 
 Pulsed and thrilled to the touch of God. 
 
 I knew Thou wert coming, O Love Divine, 
 To gather the world's heart up to Thine ; 
 I know the bonds of the rock-hewn grave 
 
Hush ! draw nearer while ye pray, 
 
 Through the night-gloom breaks the day — 
 
 Lo, the stone is rolled away ! 
 Bend and look ! Beside the bed 
 
 Where he lay— the royal Dead- 
 Watching angels wait instead. 
 
 Hark! upon the lii:tening ear, 
 Falls a voice serene and clear 
 
 " He is risen," " He is not here." 
 Is not here ! then where, O where? 
 
 If we find Him not, despair 
 Is the answer to our prayer. 
 
 Nay, not so — the soul in pain 
 
 Ne'er need miss His face again-— 
 Jesus lives, and lives to reign. 
 
 As beneath the Olive bough. 
 With the glory on His brow 
 
 Mary saw,— we see him now. 
 As of old to Emmaus 
 
 With His dear ones, — even thus, 
 He will walk and talk with us. 
 
To our upper chambers still 
 Where we meet to wait His will, 
 
 He will come, our hearts to fill. 
 Living in each secret care, 
 
 Living in each joy or prayer, 
 All around us everywhere, 
 
 Jesus lives again. 
 
Zhxnc lEaeter H)a\>. 
 
 jITHIN thy heart is there an 
 opened tomb ? 
 Have God's strong angels rolled 
 the stone away ? 
 Rises thy dead self from its bonds of day ? 
 Breaks Heaven's sweet light across the dark 
 and gloom ? 
 Then is this day in truth thine Easter day. 
 
 If broken down are stony gates of pride, 
 If shrouding bands of earth are torn away. 
 
If sin, and wrath and scorn in thee have 
 died, 
 Mourn not the past;— the folded shroud 
 beside 
 Angels will watch ;— it is thine Easter day. 
 
 Rise, new-born soul, and put thine armor on; 
 Clasp round thy breast the garments of the 
 
 light ; 
 Gird up thy loins for battle. In the fight 
 He leads who upward from our sight has 
 gone; 
 It is His day ; there's no more death nor 
 night. 
 
 No dark, no hurt, no more sharp pain nor 
 loss ; 
 All buried, hidden 'neath the grave's dark 
 
 sod; 
 All ways forgotten, save the road He trod ; 
 All burdens naught in sight of His— the 
 
 cross ; 
 All joy, alive and safe with Christ in God ! 
 
Z\K mitncBe. 
 
 Y the throb of joy that swells, 
 In the sound of Sabbath bells, 
 By the praises clear that ring, 
 In the songs our glad hearts sing ; 
 By the touch of light and bloom 
 In the Lenten shade and gloom, 
 Know we death has ceased to reign, 
 Know we Christ has risen again. 
 
 By the lilies white and sweet, 
 
 Laid down at His sacred feet; 
 
 By the roses blushing red, 
 
 For the thorns that pierced His head— 
 
By the sea of love and prayer, 
 Pulsing round us everywhere, 
 By the peace that conquers pain, 
 Know we Jesus lives again. 
 
 Lives for us for whom he died ; — 
 Closely to his wounded side 
 Draws us, in our sorest grief, 
 Charms us from our unbelief; 
 Lives our daily load to bear, 
 Lives, His joy with us to share, 
 Closest in our bitterest need 
 Christ the Lord is risen indeed. 
 
VxBcn for ins. 
 
 AY, did it mean to break the 
 
 bands that bound Him 
 And stand forth free beneath 
 Judea's sky; 
 With holy stars above and silence round 
 
 him, 
 And all forgot the tomb and Calvary? 
 
 Or did it mean such radiance of glory. 
 Breaking from heaven on His ravished sight. 
 As blotted out for aye the mournful story 
 That ended for Him in the grave's dark 
 night ? 
 
Or did ihe gladness of the new life, throb- 
 bing 
 
 In warm free pulses, through His wounded 
 heart, 
 
 Shut out from Him the sound of human 
 sobbing 
 
 O'er woe and pain in which He once had 
 part? 
 
 Nay, nay, not so : whatever priceless bless- 
 ing, 
 
 Within his radiant crown of joy was set, 
 
 The grief, the wrong, the burden on us 
 pressing 
 
 Are still his own ; — the Lord can not forget ! 
 
 Though from our tearful eyes to heaven 
 ascended. 
 
 He yet is with us in each hour of need. 
 
 Though cross, and thorn, and shame for 
 Him are ended 
 
 He bears our own ; — the Lord is risen in- 
 deed. 
 
Zhc Dlctor. 
 
 ESTERDAY, distress and gl©om, 
 Folded shroud and rock-hewn tomb, 
 Where to-day is light and bloom. 
 
 Brooding darkness yesterday, 
 On the spot where Jesus lay ; 
 Now the stone is rolled away, 
 
 And triumphant voices ring, 
 With the hymn the blessed sing, 
 Death at last has lost its sting. 
 
Lost its sting and lost its sway, 
 O'er to-day or yesterday. 
 Where is now thy victory ? 
 
 Where thy triumph, vaunting grave ?- 
 Seas of pardon softly lave 
 Souls the Master rose to save. 
 
 And the Easter bells' glad strain, 
 Is for all who, washed from stain, 
 Rise henceforth o'er sin and pain ! 
 
Comfort 
 
 ATCHER, waiting for a sign, 
 In that doubting heart of thine, 
 ^^gi Where but shadows darkling lay. 
 He will roll the stone away. 
 
 When thy sin, thy shame, thy pride, 
 
 In His tomb lie crucified, 
 Christ shall rise in thee to reign, 
 
 And thy dead Lord live again. 
 
 And this life that throbs to-day, 
 
 In each tender word ye say, 
 Pulsing in each hope or prayer, 
 
 Is the sign that Christ is there. 
 
On thy striving drops His calm ; 
 
 On thine anguish falls His balm ; 
 Let thy heart its joy-bells ring, 
 
 He, the risen Christ, is King. 
 
aUve in Ibim. 
 
 « |^3fii^ IFE for us is in his dying!'' 
 mSk^^^ So our humbled souls keep 
 
 I^^^P^^ While the Lenten tears fall 
 
 faster 
 At the grave that shrouds the Master, 
 Till within that gloomy garden 
 Shines His presence and His pardon — 
 Glimpse of Easter glory giving — 
 Then, "Our life is in His living! " 
 
 While He, patient, waits the voicing 
 Of our triumph and rejoicing, 
 Filled with our own hearts' devices 
 Still we bring our burial spices. 
 Yet the Love whose taking hallows 
 Our poor gifts of myrrh and aloes. 
 Rainbows e'en our tears, and raises 
 Broken, trembling prayers to praises. 
 
Watcher where the grave-glooms darken 
 Lift thy shadowed soul, and harken ! 
 Hear the strong, triumphant singing 
 Of the risen in Christ, loud ringing 
 In glad anthems from the portals 
 Of the home of the Immortals ! 
 "Sealed no longer death's dark prison — 
 Christ, the Conqueror, is risen!" 
 
 Tarry not to place thy finger 
 In the wounds where nail-prints linger; 
 Leave the linen cloths that bound him; 
 Sing, with Mary, " I have found him ! " 
 Be thy mighty love the token 
 That for thee His heart was broken. 
 Whom the living Christ has shriven 
 Knows, e'en here, the peace of heaven. 
 
 Death in Christ is dawning gladness ; 
 Life in Christ is robbed of sadness ; 
 Faith in Christ that will not falter 
 Crowns with Easter bloom his altar, 
 Decks his shrine in sweetness vernal, 
 Lives with Christ the life eternal, 
 Tells, in song and chime and story, 
 All a risen Saviour's glory. 
 
IRolI awa? tbe Stone* 
 
 ELL us not, O song of poet, tales of 
 how their white plumes tossed, 
 §- Like the snow-capped waves in sea- 
 storm, when the knightly lances 
 crossed, 
 And Christian warred with Saracen for tomb, 
 beloved and lost. 
 
 Blood and anguish little counted, life and 
 
 courage all unpriced, 
 Gave they to this holy warfare, — naught too 
 
 much, yet naught sufficed, — 
 For an empty tomb they battled, not the 
 
 living Christ. 
 
 To this day the Christ lies buried, wrapped 
 
 and hidden in His own, 
 Under fold on fold of evil, till the hearts 
 
 meant for His throne. 
 Are like graves from whose dark doorway 
 
 none can roll away the stone. 
 
By such tombs watch weeping women, dark- 
 some night and dreary day. 
 
 For one sight of Christ the Master, through 
 the folding shroud of clay ; 
 
 For the coming of an angel who shall roll the 
 stone away. 
 
 And God sends not one but many, soft of 
 word and sweet of face, 
 
 And the stony portal trembles at this miracle 
 of grace, 
 
 Till the buried Christ awakens, and His pres- 
 ence fills the place. 
 
 God of love where'er the evil shrouds the 
 good in hearts of men, 
 
 Grant this miracle of mercy be re-wrought, 
 until again 
 
 Good that stifled in its grave-clothes, re- 
 appears to mortal ken. 
 
 And defeated souls and fettered, loosed from 
 
 bonds, in freedom stand, 
 Ready both to do and suffer at the King's 
 
 divine command ; 
 Let the angel touch that frees them be a 
 
 loving woman's hand. 
 
after igaeten 
 
 H E Easter praises may falter 
 
 And die with the Easter Day, 
 The blossoms that brightened 
 the altar 
 In sweetness may fade away; 
 But after the silence and fading 
 
 Lingers a blessing unpriced, 
 
 Above all changing and shading. 
 
 The love of the living Christ. 
 
 For the living Christ is loving, 
 
 And the loving Christ is alive ! 
 His life hidden in us is moving 
 ^ Us ever to pray and to strive. 
 
 RD- 17 
 
Alas ! that e'en in our striving 
 We toil like the spirits in prison, 
 
 Forgetting that Jesus is living, 
 Forgetting the Saviour has risen ! 
 
 We join in the Easter rejoicing, 
 
 And echo each gladdening strain 
 While a pitiful minor is voicing 
 
 Our own secret doubting or pain. 
 We weave Him a shroud of our sadness, 
 
 We cover his smile with our gloom, 
 And drive back the angel of gladness 
 
 That waits at the door of the tomb. 
 
 We forget that our own hearts have hidden 
 
 Our Christ in a grave of our own ; 
 We forget that our own hands are bidden 
 
 To roll from the threshold the stone. 
 Yet our tearful eyes, drooping and weary, 
 
 With watching in sorrow and fear, 
 Might see, with the heart-broken Mary, 
 
 That the Lord is alive — and is here. 
 
^A 
 

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