Or, what if e’en, as runs a tale, the Ten Saw, heard, and touched, again and yet again? What if at Emmaüs’ inn, and by Capernaum’s Lake, Came One, the bread that brake— Came One that spake as never mortal spake, And with them ate, and drank, and stood, and walked about? Ah? ‘some’ did well to ‘doubt!’ Ah! the true Christ, while these things came to pass, Nor heard, nor spake, nor walked, nor lived, alas! He was not risen, no— He lay and mouldered low, Christ was not risen! As circulates in some great city crowd A rumour changeful, vague, importunate, and loud, From no determined centre, or of fact Or authorship exact, Which no man can deny Nor verify; So spread the wondrous fame; He all the same Lay senseless, mouldering, low: He was not risen, no— Christ was not risen! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; As of the unjust, also of the just— Yea, of that Just One, too! This is the one sad Gospel that is true— Christ is not risen! Is He not risen, and shall we not rise? Oh, we unwise! What did we dream, what wake we to discover? Ye hills, fall on us, and ye mountains, cover! In darkness and great gloom Come ere we thought it is _our_ day of doom; From the cursed world, which is one tomb, Christ is not risen! Eat, drink, and play, and think that this is bliss: There is no heaven but this; There is no hell, Save earth, which serves the purpose doubly well, Seeing it visits still With equalest apportionment of ill Both good and bad alike, and brings to one same dust The unjust and the just With Christ, who is not risen. Eat, drink, and die, for we are souls bereaved: Of all the creatures under heaven’s wide cope We are most hopeless, who had once most hope, And most beliefless, that had most believed. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; As of the unjust, also of the just— Yea, of that Just One too! It is the one sad Gospel that is true— Christ is not risen!