THE guilty town of Salem slept,
As bound by heavy spell,
Save for the patient vigil kept
By Roman sentinel;
The first pale amber streak of morn
Along the purple sky
Fringed dark leaved Olivet forlorn,
O’er humble Bethany.
And all the country round lay still
Without a sound, intent,
As hushed by deep, mysterious will
Before a great event;
One place there is in Judah’s lands,
One central point of all―
The rock-hewn sepulcher that stands
Within yon garden wall.
O grave, thou depth of terrors, say,
Where is thy victory?
The dawn breaks of the fairest day
In this world’s history.
There came forth, at that silent hour,
From the domain of death,
The Son of God, declared in power,
Jesus of Nazareth!
The guards were on their faces thrown,
The rocks were torn and rent,
The dazzling angel rolled the stone,
The women came and went.
But see! the light of morning streams!
Fast disappears the gloom;
The first day’s sun, with quickening beams,
Shines on an empty tomb!