W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.
An Easter Ode
Henry Alford (18101871)T
Is on Judæa’s hills;
The full-orbed moon with cloudless light
Is sparkling on their rills:
One spot above the rest
Is still and tranquil seen,
The chamber as of something blest,
Amidst its bowers of green.
The figures ye may trace
Of men-at-arms in grim array,
Girding the solemn place:
But other bands are there—
And, glistening through the gloom,
Legions of angels bright and fair
Throng to that wondrous tomb.
The triumph-hour is near:
The Lord hath won the victory,
The foe is vanquished here!
Dark grave, yield up the dead;
Give up thy prey, thou earth:
In death he bowed his sacred head—
He springs anew to birth!
Around his suffering brow;
But glory rich his head adorns,
And angels crown him now.
Roll yonder rock away
That bars the marble-gate;
And gather we in bright array
To swell the Victor’s state!
The Lord is risen indeed!
The curse is made of none avail;
The sons of men are freed!”