Reason and Faith at once set out
  To search the SAVIOUR'S tomb;
  Faith faster runs, but waits without,
  As fearing to presume,
  Till Reason enter in, and trace
  Christ's relics round the holy place -
  "Here lay His limbs, and here His sacred head,
And who was by, to make His new-forsaken bed?"

  Both wonder, one believes—but while
  They muse on all at home,
  No thought can tender Love beguile
  From Jesus' grave to roam.
  Weeping she stays till He appear -
  Her witness first the Church must hear -
  All joy to souls that can rejoice
With her at earliest call of His dear gracious voice.

  Joy too to those, who love to talk
  In secret how He died,
  Though with sealed eyes awhile they walk,
  Nor see him at their side:
  Most like the faithful pair are they,
  Who once to Emmaus took their way,
  Half darkling, till their Master shied
His glory on their souls, made known in breaking bread.

  Thus, ever brighter and more bright,
  On those He came to save
  The Lord of new-created light
  Dawned gradual from the grave;
  Till passed th' enquiring day-light hour,
  And with closed door in silent bower
  The Church in anxious musing sate,
As one who for redemption still had long to wait.

  Then, gliding through th' unopening door,
  Smooth without step or sound,
  "Peace to your souls," He said—no more -
  They own Him, kneeling round.
  Eye, ear, and hand, and loving heart,
  Body and soul in every part,
  Successive made His witnesses that hour,
Cease not in all the world to show His saving power.

  Is there, on earth, a spirit frail,
  Who fears to take their word,