Sad-hearted came they at the break of day As the sun rose—and morning mists hung gray Above the olive groves, a silvery veil Of flying shadows, gossamer and pale— Unto the tomb. And did they come in faith That, spite of all, their Lord had conquered death? Nor think him in the grave, asleep, alone? Or had they trust that Love could lift that stone? Swift sorrow turns to joy when, as they come, Two angels greet them from the empty tomb; And with that sweet assurance, "He is risen"! They know their Master freed from death's dark prison.
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