A Burden of Easter Vigil

Awhile meet Doubt and Faith: For either sigheth and saith, That He is dead To-day: the linen cloths cover His head, That hath, at last, whereon to rest; a rocky bed.

Come! for the pangs are done, That overcast the sun, So bright to-day! And moved the Roman soldier: come away! Hath sorrow more to weep? Hath pity more to say?

Why wilt thou linger yet? Think on dark Olivet; On Calvary stem: Think, from the happy birth at Bethlehem, To this last woe and passion at Jerusalem!

This only can be said: He loved us all; is dead; May rise again. But if He rise not? Over the far main, The sun of glory falls indeed: the stars are plain.