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He talks of Golgotha, the tomb, the morn
When the rent sepulchre resigned its trust,
And He triumphant, first-born from the dead,
Death's sceptre broken, trod the earth again;
When his own saw Him, heard Him, and believed
That He, whom on the tree they saw expire
In agony and shame, was Lord of All!

  Ah! how their blessed spirits now respond
In rapturous praise, and thanks, and burning love—
Love that not blindly burns, like theirs of old
Who to Emmaus walked—while heavenly words
Fall like soft music from those lips divine!
His glory they behold, that glory share,
Even as on earth he said. All human grace
With the full Godhead's dignity combined,
And lowly gentleness, enrobed He seems
With beauty infinite! They, all intent,
And ravished, gazing on his unveiled face—
O vision long desired—themselves transformed
And in his likeness made, exultant see;