Easter Eve

Father and Lord of our whole life,
As Thine our burden and our strife,
As Thine it was to die and rise,
So Thine the grave and Paradise.

Lord of the eternal Sabbath-day,
Lo, at Thy tomb for rest we pray:
Here, rest from our own work; and there,
The perfect rest with Thee to share.

True God, true Flesh of Mary made,
In a true grave for sinners laid,
With Thee this mortal frame we trust;
O guard and glorify our dust!

Soul of the Lord, so freely breathed,
And to the Father's hands bequeathed,
Draw us with heart's desire to Thee,
When we among the dead are free.

Dread Preacher, who to fathers old
Didst wonders in the gloom unfold;
Thy perfect creed O may we learn
In Eden, waiting Thy return.

They saw Thy day, and heard Thy voice,
And in Thy glory did rejoice;
And Thou didst break their prison-bars,
And lead them high above the stars.

" Captivity led captive " then
Was sung by angels and by men:
Grant us the same to sing by faith,
Both now, and at the hour of death.

Our souls and bodies, Lord, receive
To Thine own blessed Easter Eve:
All our belov'd in mercy keep,
As one by one they fall asleep.

To Thee, who, dead, again dost live,
All glory, Lord, Thy people give,
With the dread Father, as is meet,
And the eternal Paraclete. Amen.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.