The Glory of God from the Way of the East

The glo­ry of God from the way of the East

Shines in­to the se­pul­cher

slum­ber has ceased;

The stone

like a cloud

has moved light­ly away

And on it there sits a strong an­gel of day.

O seize him

ye sol­diers—he sits on the stone:

Before him no bar

but be­neath him a throne;

Bedazzled and smit­ten by ter­ri­ble light

The sol­diers

they trem­ble and fall in their flight.

O

ring

bells of Heav­en; ye throngs of the blest

Again hal­le­lu­jahs may swell from your breast;

Let surg­es of mu­sic

like sum­mer seas bright

Re-echo and roll through the heav­en­ly height.

They hat­ed and sent Him in dark­ness to dwell

Beneath the great mount­ains and bil­lows of hell;

But He lit the ca­verns of an­cient des­pair

And with a new chain bound the fiend in his lair.

And free­dom He gave those who sore­ly were bruised;

He tri­umphs to­day whom the peo­ple re­fused:

Of all that have loved Him He’ll com­fort the soul

His own wound­ed heart is for ev­er made whole.

And

O

ye kind an­gels

who grieved for your song

Now sing that the right has pre­vailed ov­er wrong;

The best of good-will shines through hat­red and pain

And glo­ry and peace have aris­en to reign.