In the starry fields of Heaven Mansions bright, to us, are given: Triumph o’er the grave He won In the resurrection morn— Life eternal is begun, Hope to all the world is born, He is Risen! He hath passed thro’ Heaven’s portal, We, thro’ Him have life immortal— Death is met with faith and trust— The tomb is lighted by His love; Earth may claim the crumbling dust— Souls will dwell with Christ above. He is Risen! Think not thou art left forsaken Tho’ by sorrow’s tempest shaken; From His son, God veiled his face— Heaven’s light was e’en withdrawn, But the cruel cross made place For the glorious Easter dawn— He is Risen! The Christ. In olive-crowned Gethsemane, Alone the Savior sought the power That wrought through him at Galilee, To stay the tide of that dark hour. With grief bowed soul he prayed, but grace Was His, to say: “Thy will be done.” From Christ the Father veiled his face And gave the world His only Son. Tho’ His displeasure hid the day, Spread brooding terror o’er the land, Tho’ yielding hate its earth-born sway, O’er-ruling Love in wisdom planned; While human might did glut its greed With nod of law to sanction crime, A good, by higher law decreed, Went forth, encircling earth and time. Far-reaching, ’twas to win the world— Their cruel deeds of blinded rage— Their mocking taunts like hell-brands hurled, Still echo from the sacred page; That bitter cup—the crown of thorn Upon His suffering, sinless brow— That wail, adown the ages borne— Are loving worship winning now. O! blot the hard, blasphemous creed, “A sacrifice for wrath of God;” And teach the world ’twas human deed That stained with blood Golgotha’s sod. The reeling earth and darkened sun Proclaimed aloud Jehovah’s frown; Yet taught us that His holy one Had by life’s cross won Heaven’s crown. That tho’ he passed thro’ death—the tomb To calm a world in maddened strife, From out its broken bars of gloom A joy would beam to beacon life, And bless for us that morning light That points the glory path he trod From persecution, death and night, Through Resurrection, up to God. ’Tis through His bearing mortal woes We feel the throb of Love Divine! Though wrung with agonizing throes, His words with God-like mercy shine; They wake the world to faith and hope— E’en from old Memnon’s music trill, They turn the dusky Ethiope To catch their soul-impassioned thrill. “Forgive—they know not what they do!”— O, holy prayer! In every tongue Its tender pleading pulses thro’, As when from Calvary’s cross it rung!— O, arms of Love’s infinitude! They still reach down to earth from Heaven To bind in one great brotherhood, Through Him, the rescued world—forgiven. Feed My Lambs.