They say that Jesus “rose.”
Sweet is the old record, sweet the gracious thought—
God with our griefs and agonies inwrought;
God conscious of our woes:

God, lord of life and master of the sun,
Encountering starless night,—
Putting to desperate flight
The hosts that rule the darkness, one by one.

Dogmas? Nay, Love instead!
No thought abides save this,
That Love's eternal kiss
Hath fallen upon the forehead of the dead;

That at that kiss the dead
May pass into the land of light supreme,
Where joy is real and sorrow is the dream
And “Farewell” is not said.

Mother, if Jesus rose,
Then thou in God's sweet strength hast risen as well;
When o'er thy brow the solemn darkness fell
It was but for one moment of repose.

Thy love is mine—my deathless love to thee!
May God's love guard us till all death is o'er,—
Till thine eyes meet my sorrowing eyes once more,—
Then guard us still, through all eternity!
Rate this poem: 

Become a Patron!


No reviews yet.