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.
So we, in loneliness, in grief or pain,
When we have proved that earthly help is vain,
Lift up our thought to God, and meekly pray,
Asking His love to roll the stone away.
Then doth the "Sun of righteousness" arise,
The mist-clouds vanish to uplifted eyes;
Clear vision sees the nothingness of error,
And proves Christ's victory over death and terror.
