TUB ROSE-BUD. 



63 



God only, and good angels, look 



Behind the blissful screen 

 As when, triumphant o'er his woes, 

 The Son of God, by moonlight rose, 



By all but Heaven unseen : 



As when the holy maid beheld 



Her risen Son and Lord : 

 Thought has not colors half so fair 

 That she to paint that hour may dare, 



In silence best adored. 



The gracious Dove, that brougnt from heaven 



The earnest of our bliss, 

 Of many a chosen witness telling, 

 On many a happy vision dwelling, 



Sings not a note of this. 



So, truest image of the Christ, 



Old Israel's long-lost Son, 

 What time, with sweet forgiving cheer, 

 He called his conscious brethren near, 



Would weep with them alone. 

 5* 



