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FLOWER OF YOUTH
Christ the Lord of Life new-risen,
Calls the sleepers that they rise—
From the unnumbered graves, break prison,
Follow Him to Paradise.
Who be then these shining ones
Dancing with a heavenly mirth,
The King's daughters, the King's sons,
Fairer than the folk of earth?
Graves are busier than a hive
The wind blows, the sun is warm;
Now the dead are come alive—
Loosed is many a golden swarm.
Sing to the Lord a new song!
The Sun's risen in our East;
Christ the Lord of Life is young.
And the young sit to the feast.
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH
