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Show jjA Legend of the I Easter Children m nrHE legends say children were first A To be abroad that Easter day When morning out of darkness burst, And angels rolled the stone away. For children's hearts are quick to feel The deadening pall of mortal pain, And children's hearts are first to heal When light and comfort come again. And they had loved the Lord Christ's face. And on His knees had laughed and cried, And heard Him say the heavenly place Is where all child-like souls abide; And they had often heard Him tell Strong men b, pride and greed defiled That they could never please Him well Till they w( re humble as a child. And they had heard the tale that grieve All little hearts: how One so dear Was nailed upon a cross with thieves, And tortured with a poisoned spear; And how the temple's wondrous veil Was riven by the lightning stroke, While, mingled with the women's wail, The earthquake and the thunder broke J And how black night came down at noon, And ghosts from graves that opened wido Skulked out beneath a blood-red moon, When He that loved the children died. For two long days no girl or boy In Galilee or Jordan plain Could laugh or sing, for hope and joy In every little heart was slain. But when the earth that third day morn Was flooded with such golden light As never since the world was born Had come to dazzle human sight, Then every child, the legends say, Knew that the time was at an end, Knew that the stone was rolled away, And flew to meet the risen Friend. And long before the Magdalene Had reached the empty sepulchre, Oi Peter heard what she had seen, Or fleet John hastened after her, The children had gone forth and found The Master in the garden walk, And scattered lilies on the ground, And seen His smile, and heard Him talk. No child was puny, halt, or lame, Or hungry, or in tatters clad, But clothed as if in light they came, And all were whole, and strong, and glad. They throng along the Kedron rill, They thread the city through the gates, Straight up to Joseph's garden hill, Where He that loves the children waits. They dance, they sing, they climb the trees, They circle round in ring and file; They know they cannot fail to please, And win the guerdon of His smile. He lifts His hand: " I bore the pain Of death for men by sin defiled; I rise henceforth to live and reign Lord of the Kingdom of the Child." They vanish, and He stands alone; And when the women come to weep, The garden flames with flowers new-blown The children are at home asleep. "What makes that garden spot so bright?" The learned rabbis stroked their chins; They knew not yet that love is light, That knowledge fails where love begins. But somehow still on Easter morn The world is beautiful again, And in each child-like heart is born Some yearning of geod will to men Some hauntirig sense, some happy dream Of singing birds, of daffodils, Of olive branches, or the gleam Of dew-shine on the Syrian hills. Philadelphia Ledger. |
