EASTER DAY by JOHN BYROM

THE morning dawns; the third approaching day
Can only shew the place where Jesus lay:
Angels descend—remember what he said—
"He is not here, but risen from the dead;
"Betray'd into the hands of sinful men,
"The Son of man must die, and rise again."

So sang the prophets, ever since the fall;
Of rites ordain'd the meaning this, thro' all.
This, by the various sacrifice of old,
Memorial type, and shadow, was foretold:
Even false worship, careless what it meant,
Gave to this truth an ignorant consent.

Christ is the sum and substance of the whole
That God has done or said, to save a soul,
To raise himself a Church; when that is done,
The world becomes the kingdom of his Son;
A Heav'n restor'd to the redeem'd, the born
Of Him who rose on this auspicious morn.

He that was dead, in order to restore,—
Behold! He is alive for evermore:
A heav'nly Adam, full empow'r'd to give
The life that men were first design'd to live:
Fountain of life! come, whosoever will,
To quench his thirst, and freely take his fill.

Mankind, in Him, are life's predestin'd heirs;
His rising glories the first-fruits of theirs.
Hearts that renounce the slavery to sin,
Feel of his pow'r the living warmth within;
Of strengthening faith, of joyous hope possess'd,
And Heav'n-producing love within the breast:

The breast—the temple of the Holy Ghost,
When once enliven'd by this heav'nly host:
His resurrection, the sure proof of ours,
Will there exert his death-destroying pow'rs;
Till all his sons shall meet before his throne
In glorious bodies, fashion'd like his own.

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