Easter Even

(Lyra Messianica, 1864.)     There is nothing more that they can do         For all their rage and boast;     Caiaphas with his blaspheming crew,         Herod with his host,     Pontius Pilate in his Judgement-hall         Judging their Judge and his,     Or he who led them all and passed them all,         Arch-Judas with his kiss.     The sepulchre made sure with ponderous Stone,         Seal that same stone, O Priest;     It may be thou shalt block the holy One         From rising in the east:     Set a watch about the sepulchre         To watch on pain of death;     They must hold fast the stone if One should stir         And shake it from beneath.     God Almighty, He can break a seal         And roll away a Stone,     Can grind the proud in dust who would not kneel,         And crush the mighty one.     *    *    *    *    *    *    *     There is nothing more that they can do         For all their passionate care,     Those who sit in dust, the blessed few,         And weep and rend their hair:     Peter, Thomas, Mary Magdalene,         The Virgin unreproved,     Joseph, with Nicodemus, foremost men,         And John the Well-beloved,     Bring your finest linen and your spice,         Swathe the sacred Dead,     Bind with careful hands and piteous eyes         The napkin round His head;     Lay Him in the garden-rock to rest;         Rest you the Sabbath length:     The Sun that went down crimson in the west         Shall rise renewed in strength.     God Almighty shall give joy for pain,         Shall comfort him who grieves:     Lo! He with joy shall doubtless come again,         And with Him bring His sheaves.