No company of revellers is here,
But sad procession solemn moves and slow,
While sobs are heard, and tears of anguish flow;――
A widow's only son is on the bier.
But now the mighty Son of God comes near,
And stops the moving spectacle of woe,
And says――"Young man, I tell thee, rise!" When lo
The dead man lives, and speaks in accents clear!
O, what a tide of ecstasy was thine,
Blest widow, kissing that son's face once more,
Then falling at _His_ feet, who wak'd the dead!
So, at another day, that voice divine
Shall reach all caverns of the grave with power,
And rapture through innum'rous hearts shall spread.