Читать книгу Heart Songs - Jean Blewett - Страница 11

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THEY journey sadly, slowly on,

The day has scarce begun,

Above the hills the rose of dawn

Is heralding the sun,

While down in still Gethsemane

The shadows have not moved,

They go, by loss oppressed, to see

The grave of One they loved.

The eyes of Mary Magdalene,

With heavy grief are filled;

The tender eyes that oft have seen

The strife of passion stilled.

And nevermore that tender voice

Will whisper “God forgives;”

How can the earth at dawn rejoice

Since He no longer lives?

O, hours that were so full and sweet!

So free from doubts and fears!

When kneeling lowly at His feet

She washed them with her tears!

With head low bowed upon her breast

The other Mary goes,

“He sleeps,” she says, “and takes His rest

Untroubled by our woes.”

And spices rare their hands do hold

For Him, the loved and lost,

And Magdalene, by love made bold,

Doth maybe bring the most.

It is not needed, see the stone

No longer keeps its place,

And on it sits a radiant one

A light upon his face.

“He is not here, come near and look

With thine own doubting eyes,

Where once He lay—the earth is shook

And Jesus did arise.”

And now they turn to go away,

Slow stepping, hand in hand,

’Twas something wondrous he did say,

If they could understand.

The sun is flooding vale and hill,

Blue shines the sky above,

“All Hail!” O voice that wakes a thrill

Familiar, full of love.

From darkest night to brightest day,

From deep despair to bliss,

They to the Master run straightway

And kneel, His feet to kiss.

O, Love! that made Him come to save,

To hang on Calvary,

O mighty Love! that from the grave

Did lift and set Him free!

Sing, Mary Magdalene, sing forth—

With voice so sweet and strong,

Sing, till it thrills through all the earth—

The Resurrection Song!