by Ernest Warburton Shurtleff
Lift up your heads, ye happy throngs,
And let your hearts be filled with light!
The Lord of Easter hears your songs,
And loves to see your faces bright.
Rejoice! and let His glory make
The path you tread a pleasant way!
Oh let His risen beauty break
Upon your lives like Easter day.
There’s not a soul on earth that sighs,
But what the Lord hath power to heal:
He rose from death that we might rise,
And in our lives His presence feel.
Eternal life shall make us glad,
If we His gentle words obey.
Shall pain or trouble leave us sad
When such a hope fills Easter day?
Awake, fair flowers, the Spring is here!
Return, sweet birds, from southern climes!
Sing on, cool brooks, that babble clear!
Peal on, glad bells, your Easter chimes!
Let hope and trust fill every voice,
Let sunlight gladden every way,
And let the whole wide world rejoice
And praise the Lord on Easter day.
Hallelujah! sound His praises!
Hallelujah! Sing His might!
Death is put away for ever,
Christ is risen in glory bright!
He Is Risen Poems
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
On Friday, Jesus died on the Cross, so sad,
Was our hope gone in Him that we previously had?
God sent His Son to redeem us from sin,
His sacrifice was divine and so much within.
Friday, a sorrowful day not easy to bear,
But three days later hope would be there.
We sing loud praises of joy and dance
For He conquered death, Satan doesn't stand a chance.
The Sunday morning all of Heaven rejoiced,
Alleluia! Christ’s work is done and God’s will is voiced.
Good Friday Poems
Poet: Celia Thaxter
Sing, children, sing!
The lilies white you bring
In the joyous Easter morning for hope are blossoming;
And, as the earth her shroud of snow from off her breast doth fling,
So may we cast our fetters off in God's eternal spring,
So may we find release at last from sorrow and from pain.
So may we find our childhood's calm, delicious dawn again.
Sweet are your eyes, O little ones, that look with smiling grace.
Without a shade of doubt or fear, into the Future's face!
Sing, sing in happy chorus, with joyful voices tell
That death is life, and God is good, and all things shall be well;
That bitter days shall cease
In warmth and light and peace;
That winter yields to spring:
Sing, little children, sing!
Poet: Kate Sanborn
How did the Lord keep Easter? With his own.
Back to meet Mary where she grieved alone,
With face and mien all tenderly the same,
Unto the very sepulcher he came.
And I do think, as he came back to her.
The many mansions may be all astir
With tender steps that hasten in the way.
Seeking their own upon this Easter day.
Parting the veil that hideth them about,
I think they do come softly, wistful out
From homes of heaven, that only seem so far,
And walk in gardens where the new tombs are.
Christian Poems
Poet: G. H. D.
And perched the glittering, icy boughs among,
One little bird was pouring out his song,
An Easter carol full of faith and cheer.
Under the leaden sky so sad and drear.
Dear little songster, braver thou than we!
Surely our clouded hearts are shamed by thee:
So easy 'tis to sing when skies are fair.
And the spring gladness waketh in the air.
But still to keep sweet music in the heart
When wintry storms bid brightest hopes depart,
When skies are dark and springtime waiteth long.
This is the true, the perfect, Easter song.
Poet: A. E. Housman
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 Quotes
Poet: Christina Rossetti
Spring bursts today,
For Christ is risen and all the earth's at play.
Flash forth, thou sun,
The rain is over and gone, its work is done.
Winter is past,
Sweet spring is come at last, is come at last.
Bud, fig and vine,
Bud, olive, fat with fruit and oil, and wine.
Break forth this morn
In roses, thou but yesterday a thorn.
Uplift thy head,
O pure white lily through the winter dead.
Beside your dams
Leap and rejoice, you merry-making lambs.
All herds and flocks
Rejoice, all beasts of thickets and of rocks.
Sing, creatures, sing,
Angels and men and birds, and everything. . . .
Eastertide Poem
Poet: William Croswell Doane
What shall the song of Easter be?
Moses' and Miriam's song by the sea!
"The Lord hath triumphed gloriously."
To-day Life won triumphantly
The final fight with Death, for He
Who won this glorious victory,
He rose to-day, to "die no more";
He vanquished in this holy war
Death's old "dominion," heretofore
Unbroken. So our song shall be,
Glory to Him Who set us free,
From Death's relentless tyranny.
Gladly our voices let us raise,
In chant and psalm and hymn and praise,
To Him Who won in wondrous ways;
Dying, to conquer death, that we,
Fearless in death, may also be
"Among the dead," as He was, "free";
And learn the power of Jesus' strife.
That through death comes the perfect life,
With joys eternal rich and rife.
And the earth that opens its thousand graves,
To make the sleeping seeds; and the waves
Of the loosened brook that the meadow laves;
And the tiny chirp from the vocal nest,
No longer warm with the mother's breast,
Eager with wakening life's new zest,
Blend with the carol of all the rest,
And join in the song to Him Who saves,
From death, through death; each living thing,
To its own perfect life to bring;
Our conquering, risen, ascended King.
Poems About Jesus Resurrection
Poet: Isaac Watts
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ, my God:
All the vain things that charm me most-
I sacrifice them to his blood.
See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all!
