If this your creed, then all in vain you sit
Today where lilies spill
Their incense, and the organ's swelling peal
Comes with a victory-thrill
That stirs the raptured world.
Today where lilies spill
Their incense, and the organ's swelling peal
Comes with a victory-thrill
That stirs the raptured world.
For Easter is nor gifts nor robings rare,
Nor yet a song clear-sung;
It is th' uplifting of the shriven soul
From doubts that clasped and clung
And into darkness whirled.
Nor yet a song clear-sung;
It is th' uplifting of the shriven soul
From doubts that clasped and clung
And into darkness whirled.
If from some buried past our hopes can rise
And catch the cadence rare
Of world-hosannas throbbing with God's love,
Each note a bead of prayer—
Each prayer a tide that rolls—
And catch the cadence rare
Of world-hosannas throbbing with God's love,
Each note a bead of prayer—
Each prayer a tide that rolls—
If, from old sins and passions that enslave,
Our hearts can break away
And rise triumphant from the dross of hate—
Then is this Resurrection day,
Then is it Easter in our souls!
Our hearts can break away
And rise triumphant from the dross of hate—
Then is this Resurrection day,
Then is it Easter in our souls!
AUTUMN
THE year that came barefooted through
The summer's dust-white lanes
Has found her sandals by the hedge
Where drip the autumn rains,87
The summer's dust-white lanes
Has found her sandals by the hedge
Where drip the autumn rains,87
87
