Easter Day

Break the box and shed the nard;
Stop not now to count the cost;
Hither bring pearl, opal, sard;
Reck not what the poor have lost;
Upon Christ throw all away:
Know ye, this is Easter Day.

Build God’s church and deck the shrine;
Empty though it be on earth;
Ye have kept your choicest wine-
Let it flow for heavenly mirth;
Pluck the harp and breathe the horn:
Know ye not 'tis Easter mom?

Gather gladness from the skies;
Take a lesson from the ground;
Flowers do ope their heavenward eyes
And a Spring-time joy have found;
Earth throws Winter's robes away,
Decks herself for Easter Day.

Beauty now for ashes wear,
Perfumes for the garb of woe.
Chaplets for dishevelled hair,
Dances for sad footsteps slow;
Open wide your hearts that they
Let in joy this Easter Day.

Seek God's house in happy throng;
Crowded let the table be;
Mingle praises, prayer and song,
Singing to the Trinity.
Henceforth let your souls alway
Make each morn an Easter Day.

-- Gerald Manley Hopkins

Holy Saturday.

All night had shout of men and cry
Of woeful women filled his way;
Until that noon of sombre sky
On Friday, clamour and display
Smote him; no solitude had he,
No silence, since Gethsemane.

Public was death; but power, but might,
But life again, but victory,
Were hushed within the dead of night,
The shuttered dark, the secrecy.
And all alone, alone, alone,
He rose again behind the stone.

-Alice Meynell

Good Friday

Two hymn texts for today.

O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

O sacred head, now wounded,
with grief and shame weighed down,
now scornfully surrounded
with thorns, thine only crown;
O sacred head, what glory,
what bliss till now was thine!
Yet, though despised and gory,
I joy to call thee mine.

How pale thou art with anguish,
with sore abuse and scorn;
how does thy face now languish,
which once was bright as morn!
Thy grief and bitter passion
were all for sinners' gain;
mine, mine was the transgression,
but thine the deadly pain.

What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest friend,
for this thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
Oh, make me thine forever,
and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
outlive my love to thee.

Lord, be my consolation;
shield me when I must die;
remind me of thy passion
when my last hour draws nigh.
These eyes, new faith receiving,
from thee shall never move;
for all who die believing
die safely in thy love.

Text: Paul Gerhardt, 1607–1676, based on Arnulf of Louvain, d. 1250;
tr. Evangelical Lutheran Worship composite

Lord, Thee I Love with All My Heart

Lord, thee I love with all my heart;
I pray thee, ne'er from me depart;
with tender mercy cheer me.
Earth has no pleasure I would share,
yea, heav'n itself were void and bare
if thou, Lord, were not near me.
And should my heart for sorrow break,
my trust in thee can nothing shake.
Thou art the portion I have sought;
thy precious blood my soul has bought.
Lord Jesus Christ,
my God and Lord, my God and Lord,
forsake me not! I trust thy word.

Yea, Lord, thy own rich bounty gave
my body, soul, and all I have
in this poor life of labor.
Lord, grant that I in ev'ry place
may glorify thy lavish grace
and serve and help my neighbor.
Let no false teaching me beguile,
let Satan not my soul defile.
Give strength and patience unto me
to bear my cross and follow thee.
Lord Jesus Christ,
my God and Lord, my God and Lord,
in death thy comfort still afford.

Lord, let at last thine angels come,
to Abr'ham's bosom bear me home,
that I may die unfearing;
and in its narrow chamber keep
my body safe in peaceful sleep
until thy reappearing.
And then from death awaken me,
that these mine eyes with joy may see,
O Son of God, thy glorious face,
my Savior and my fount of grace.
Lord Jesus Christ,
my prayer attend, my prayer attend,
and I will praise thee without end!

Text: Martin Schalling, 1532-1608; tr. Catherine Winkworth, 1827-1878

Lent, Day 37. Maundy Thursday

St. Peter once: ‘Lord, dost thou wash my feet?’
—Much more I say: Lord, dost thou stand and I
At my closed heart more rugged than a rock,
Bolted and barred, for thy soft touch unmeet,
Nor garnished nor in any wise made sweet?
Owls roost within and dancing satyrs mock.
Lord, I have heard the crowing of the cock
And have not wept: ah, Lord, though knowest it,
Yet still I hear thee knocking, still I hear:
‘Open to me, look on me eye to eye,
That I may wring thy heart and make it whole;
And teach thee love because I hold thee dear
And sup with thee in gladness soul with soul,
And sup with thee in glory by and by.’

-Christina Georgina Rossetti

Lent, Day 36. Wednesday in Holy Week

Come suddenly, O Lord, or slowly come,
I wait Thy will, Thy servant ready is;
Thou hast prepared Thy follower a home,
The heaven in which Thou dwellest, too, is his.

Come in the morn, at noon, or midnight deep,
Come, for Thy servant still doth watch and pray
E’en when the world around is sunk in sleep,
I wake, and long to see Thy glorious day.

I would not fix the time, the day, the hour,
When Thou with all Thine angels shalt appear;
When in Thy kingdom Thou shalt come with power,
E’en now, perhaps, the promised day is near!

For though, in slumber deep, the world may lie,
And e’en Thy church forget Thy great command;
Still year by year Thy coming draweth nigh,
And in its power Thy kingdom is at hand.

Not in some future world alone 't will be,
Beyond the grave, beyond the bounds of Time;
But on earth Thy glory we shall see,
And share Thy triumph, peaceful, pure, sublime.

Lord! help me that I faint not, weary grow,
Nor at Thy coming slumber too, and sleep;
For Thou has promised, and full well I know;
Thou wilt to us Thy word of promise keep.

-Jones Very

Lent, Day 35. Tuesday in Holy Week.

Our flesh that was a battleground
Shows now the morning-break;
The ancient deities are drowned
For they eternal sake.
Now that the past is left behind,
Fling wide the garment’s hem
To Keep us one with Thee in mind,
Thou Christ of Bethlehem.

The thorny wreath may ridge our brow,
The spear may mar our side,
And on white wood from a scented bough
We may be crucified;
Yet no assaults the old gods make
Upon our agony
Shall swerve our footsteps from the wake
Of Thine toward Calvary.

And if we hunger now and thirst,
Grant our withholders may,
When heaven’s constellations burst
Upon Thy crowning day,
Be fed by us, and given to see
Thy mercy in our eyes,
When Bethlehem and Calvary
Are merged in Paradise.

–Countee Cullen

Lent, Day 34. Monday in Holy Week

The Donkey

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

-G. K. Chesterton

Palm Sunday

A stable-lamp is lighted
Whose glow shall wake the sky;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
And straw like gold shall shine;
A barn shall harbor heaven,
A stall become a shrine.

This child through David's city
Shall ride in triumph by;
The palm shall strew its branches,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
Though heavy, dull, and dumb,
And lie within the roadway
To pave his kingdom come.

Yet he shall be forsaken,
And yielded up to die;
The sky shall groan and darken,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
For stony hearts of men:
God's blood upon the spearhead,
God's love refused again.

But now, as at the ending,
The low is lifted high;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
In praises of the child,
By whose descent among us,
The worlds are reconciled.

-Richard Wilbur