Hence they have borne my Lord; behold! the stone
Is rolled away and my sweet Saviour’s gone.
Tell me, white angel, what is now become
Of Him we lately sealed up in this tomb?
Is He, from hence, gone to the shades beneath,
To vanquish hell as here He conquered death?
If so, I’ll thither follow without fear,
And live in hell if that my Christ stays there.
Of all the good things whatsoe’er we do,
God is the ΑΡΧE, and the ΤΕΛΟΣ too.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.