Classic Poem

Full many are the centuries since the days
When early Christians traveled to great shrines,
Weary and spent, along hot, dusty ways,
To hear, at Easter time, the blessed lines
Read to assure them of the living Christ —
Words that could strengthen faith, sorrow allay.
These pilgrims counted it a thing unpriced
To hear again, " The stone was rolled away. "

No distant journey needs must be to feel
The joy that pulses with new bud and leaf;
And here, in Easter quiet, heart may kneel
To grasp his comfort after winter grief.
As Mary, weeping, found her doubt had fled,
I, too, know " Christ is risen, as he said. "

Full many are the centuries since the days
When early Christians traveled to great shrines,
Weary and spent, along hot, dusty ways,
To hear, at Easter time, the blessed lines
Read to assure them of the living Christ —
Words that could strengthen faith, sorrow allay.
These pilgrims counted it a thing unpriced
To hear again, " The stone was rolled away. "

No distant journey needs must be to feel
The joy that pulses with new bud and leaf;
And here, in Easter quiet, heart may kneel
To grasp his comfort after winter grief.
As Mary, weeping, found her doubt had fled,
I, too, know " Christ is risen, as he said. "