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The Resurrection.
Lighting its deep sepulchral gloom
With Heaven's bright beaming ray.
"The merry, soft-wing'd butterfly,
Which sports among the flowers,
Rejoicing in the summer sky
At noontide's pleasant hours,
"Was once a poor imprison'd worm,
Shut in a gloomy cell,
Uncheer'd by morning's glad return,
While there obliged to dwell;
"But God unlock'd its prison door,
And made it all anew,
To fly about from flower to flower,
And sip the cooling dew.
"And He, by his almighty word,
Will call us to the skies,
And make us like to Christ our Lord,
When we from death arise,
