Classic Poem

And was it Jesus Christ Himself they laid
Upon the rocky floor of Joseph's tomb?
O speak the words again; for, softly said,
Methinks they lighten many a mourner's gloom.

There laid they Jesus. Yet before He died,
In answer to the prayer, Remember me,
Assured He not the felon by His side
That day in Paradise with Him to be?

There laid they Jesus. Yet His parting breath
Into His Father's hands His spirit gave.
Was He not with His Father after death,
His tabernacle only in the grave?

And are there not mysterious words, which tell
That dying He the lord of death destroy'd;
And stripp'd the spoils from vanquish'd powers of hell,
Before He pass'd to Hades' awful void?

And how, when foughten was and won that strife,
He, quicken'd in His human spirit, trod
The prison of that under-world of life,
And there proclaim'd the victory of God?

Was not that Jesus? Wherefore read we then
That they laid Jesus in the sepulchre?
O speak the words again and yet again
To one who loves like Mary, weeps like her.

This body in the tomb is Jesus too;
Those eyes now closed in death are Jesus' eyes;
Those hands were wont His gracious works to do;
Those lips now seal'd have bidden dead men rise.

Are not those blessèd feet, dear Master, Thine,
So often wearied in the rough world's ways?
Throbb'd not that human heart with love Divine
For wanderers lost in sin's entangling maze?

And is that holy body now the spoil
Of Satan and the prey of death and hell?
Let not the wrongful thought our faith assoil:
It is the body of Emmanuel.

So we may cherish all the thoughts that cling
Around the sacred dust of those we love:
The ruin'd temple is a holy thing
And shall be built anew in heaven above.