As pallid they glide o'er the plain!
Sure, Nature's own God is oppressed,
And Nature in agony cries;--
The sun in his mourning is dressed,
To tell the sad news through the skies!

Yet surely some victory's gained,
Important, and novel, and great,
Since Death has his captives unchained,
And widely thrown open his gate!
Yes, victory great as a God
Could gain over hell, death, and sin,
This moment's achieved by the blood
Of Jesus, our crucified King.

But all the dread conflict is o'er;
Lo! cloud after cloud rolls away;
And heaven, serene as before,
Breaks forth in the splendour of day!
And all the sweet landscape around,
Emerged from the ocean of night,
With groves, woods, and villages crowned,
Astonish and fill with delight!

But see! where that crowd melts away,
Three crosses sad spectacles show!
Our Guide has not led us astray;
Heart! this is the secret you'd know--
Two thieves, and a crucified God
Hangs awfully mangled between!