  (illuminated capital) The awful night hath passed, the day Soon o’er the mountains will be breaking, And from their sleep of sorrow now The Saviour’s followers are waking; The Lord hath risen from His knees, His soul resigned on God relies, The cup of vengeance now is full, The Victim waits the sacrifice. Hark! hark! what sounds the stillness break,— The clouds of danger darken o’er Him, The traitor bands surround their Lord, And His betrayer stands before Him. Then love bursts through the bonds of fear— Forth from the scabbard leaps the sword, The apostle strikes the hasty blow To save—or to avenge his Lord! Oh! many a miracle of love The Lord had wrought for souls believing, Now stilling storms, now by His power The wants of multitudes relieving; But the last miracle of Christ, Ere to His fearful trial brought, Was wrought when captive and betrayed— And for His persecutor wrought. He touched the wound—and it was healed; Oh! deed, unmeasured love revealing; Ere it was nailed upon the cross That gracious hand’s last touch was healing! And when the lighter wrongs we bear Rouse in our hearts vindictive fire, Shall not remembrance of that deed Thrill on our souls, and calm our ire? Sweet are the thoughts that wondrous cure Wrought at Gethsemane may yield us; We, too, were rebels to our King, And He, though rebels, touched and healed us. Let us to all men mercy show, As we through only mercy live; Rejoice, like Christ, the poor to bless, Like Christ, the guilty to forgive! |
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