Jesus saith unto her, "Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father; but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God."-ST. JOHN xx. 17.
LIKE those pale stars of tempest hours, whose gleam
Waves calm and constant on the rocking mast,
Such by the Cross doth your bright lingering seem,
Daughters of Zion! faithful to the last!
Ye, through the darkness o'er the wide earth cast
By the death-cloud within the Saviour's eye,
E'en till away the heavenly spirit passed,
Stood in the shadow of his agony.
O blessed faith! a guiding lamp, that hour,
Was lit for woman's heart; to her, whose dower
Is all of love and suffering from her birth;
Still hath your act a voice-through fear, through strife, Bidding her bind each tendril of her life,
To that which her deep soul hath proved of holiest worth.
Weeper! to thee how bright a morn was given
After thy long, long vigil of despair,
When that high voice which burial rocks had riven,
Thrilled with immortal tones the silent air!
Never did clarion's royal blast declare
Such tale of victory to a breathless crowd,
As the deep sweetness of one word could bear,
Into thy heart of hearts, O woman! bowed
By strong affection's anguish!-one low word-
"Mary!"—and all the triumph wrung from death
Was thus revealed! and thou that so hadst err'd,
So wept and been forgiven, in trembling faith
Didst cast thee down before th' all-conquering Son,
Awed by the mighty gift thy tears and love had won!
Then was a task of glory all thine own,
Nobler than e'er the still small voice assigned To lips in awful music making known
The stormy splendors of some prophet's mind.
"Christ is arisen!" by thee to wake mankind,
First from the sepulchre those words were brought!
Thou wert to send the mighty rushing wind
First on its way, with those high tidings fraught—
"Christ has arisen!"—Thou, thou, the sin-enthralled,
Earth's outcast, Heaven's own ransom'd one, wert called
In human hearts to give that rapture birth;
Oh! raised from shame to brightness!-there doth lie
The tenderest meaning of His ministry,
Whose undespairing love still own'd the spirit's worth.
Mrs. Hemans.
Jesus saith unto her, "Mary." She turned herself, and saith unto him, "Rabboni," which is to say, Master.-ST. JOHN xx. 16.
WHEN vengeance on her victim's head
Her seven-fold vials sternly shed;
When foes the hand of menace shook,
And friends betrayed, denied, forsook;
Then woman, meekly constant still,
Followed to Calvary's fatal hill;—
Yes, followed where the boldest failed,
Unmoved by threat or sneer;
For faithful woman's love prevailed
O'er helpless woman's fear.
In sorrow and in peril tried,
She was the last to quit his side;
And when the bloody scene was closed,
And low in dust her friend reposed,
The first was she to seek his tomb,
With balm of Araby's perfume:
She fondly thought that honored form
To rescue from the loathsome worm;
And little dreamed, how death in vain
Had cast his adamantine chain
O'er one who came his might to quell,
Even in his gloomiest citadel :-
And high reward her zeal hath won ;—
"Woman! " she started at the tone ;-
"Mary!" she turned-beheld-adored—
'Twas He to life and her restored.
Thus on the pure and patient mind,
Quiet its joy, in grief resigned,
Fraught with rich blessings from above,
Beams the benignant smile of love;
E'en as the lake's unruffled breast
Makes pillow for the sunbeam's rest,
While waves, in wild disorder driven,
Roll dark beneath the clearest heaven.
Oh woman! though thy fragile form
Bows like the willow to the storm,
Ill suited in the unequal strife,
To brave the ruder scenes of life;
Yet, if the power of grace divine,
Find in thy lowly heart a shrine,
Then, in thy very weakness, strong,
Thou winn'st thy noiseless course along;
Weaving thy influence with the ties
Of sweet domestic charities,
And softening haughtier spirits down
By happy contact with thine own.
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