Myrrhbearers- Ivanka Demchuk
If in that Syrian garden, ages slain,
You sleep, and know not you are dead
in vain,
Nor even in dreams behold how dark
and bright
Ascends in smoke and fire by day and
night
The hate you died to quench and
could but fan,
Sleep well and see no morning, son
of man.
But if, the grave rent and the stone
rolled by,
At the right hand of majesty on high
You sit, and sitting so remember yet
Your tears, your agony and bloody
sweat,
Your cross and passion and the life
you gave,
Bow hither out of Heaven and see and
save.
Easter Hymn - A. E. Housman
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