The tempest over and gone, the calm begun,
Lo, “it is finished” and the Strong Man sleeps:
All stars keep vigil watching for the sun,
The moon her vigil keeps.
A garden full of silence and of dew
Beside a virgin cave and entrance stone:
Surely a garden full of Angels too,
Wondering, on watch, alone.
They who cry “Holy, Holy, Holy,” still
Veiling their faces round God’s Throne above,
May well keep vigil on this heavenly hill
And cry their cry of love,
Adoring God in His new mystery
Of Love more deep than bell, more strong than death;
Until the day break and the shadows flee,
The Shaking and the Breath.
“Our Church palms are budding willow twigs.”
While Christ lay dead the widowed world
Wore willow green for hope undone:
Till, when bright Easter dews impearled
The chilly burial earth,
All north and south, all east and west,
Flushed rosy in the arising sun;
Hope laughed, and Faith resumed her rest,
And Love remembered mirth.