From every house the neighbors met,

The streets were fill'd with joyful sound, A solemn gladness even crown'd

The purple brows of Olivet.

Behold a man raised up by Christ!
The rest remaineth unreveal'd;

He told it not; or something seal'd
The lips of that Evangelist.

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer,
Nor other thought her mind admits,
But, he was dead, and there he sits,
And he that brought him back is there.
Then one deep love doth supersede
All other, when her ardent gaze
Roves from the living brother's face,
And rests upon the Life indeed.

All subtle thought, all curious fears,

Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears. Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers, Whose loves in higher love endure; What souls possess themselves so pure, Or is there blessedness like theirs?

We are on our journey home,

Where Christ our Lord is gone; We shall meet around His throne, When he makes His people one, In the new Jerusalem.

We can see that distant home,

Though clouds rise dark between ; Faith views the radiant dome,

And a lustre flashes keen

From the new Jerusalem.

Oh, holy, heavenly home!

Oh, rest eternal there! When shall the exiles come,

Where they cease from earthly care,

In the new Jerusalem.

Our hearts are breaking now
Those mansions fair to see;

O Lord! Thy heavens bow,
And raise us up with Thee,
To the new Jerusalem.