He Is Risen (Bonar)

The tomb is emp­ty; wouldst thou have it full?

Still sad­ly clasp­ing the un­breath­ing clay;

O weak in faith

O slow of heart and dull

O dote on dark­ness

and shut out the day!

The tomb is emp­ty; He who

three short days

After a sor­row­ing life’s long wea­ri­ness

Found re­fuge in this roc­ky rest­ing place

Has now as­cend­ed to the throne of bliss.

Here lay the Ho­ly One

the Christ of God

He who for death gave death

and life for life;

Our heav­en­ly kins­man

our true flesh and blood;

Victor for us on hell’s dark field of strife.

This was the Beth­el

where

on sto­ny bed

While an­gels went and came from morn till ev­en

Our tru­er Ja­cob laid His wea­ried head;

This was to Him the ve­ry gate of Heav­en.

The Con­quer­or

not the con­quered

He to whom

The keys of death and of the grave be­long

Crossed the cold thresh­old of the strang­er’s tomb

To spoil the spoil­er and to bind the strong.

Here death had reigned; in­to no tomb like this

Had man’s fell foe afore­time found his way;

So grand a tro­phy ne’er be­fore was his

So vast a trea­sure

so di­vine a prey.

But now his tri­umph ends; the rock-barred door

Is op­ened wide

and the great Pri­son­er gone;

Look round and see

upon the va­cant floor

The nap­kin and the grave clothes lie alone.

Yes

death’s last hope

his strong­est fort and pri­son

Is shat­tered

nev­er to be built again;

And He

the migh­ty Cap­tive

He is ris­en

Leaving be­hind the gate

the bar

the chain.

Yes

He is ris’n who is the First and Last;

Who was and is; who liv­eth and was dead;

Beyond the reach of death He now has passed;

Of the one glo­ri­ous Church the glo­ri­ous Head.

The tomb is emp­ty; so

ere long shall be

The tombs of all who in this Christ re­pose;

They died with Him who died up­on the tree;

They live and rise with Him who lived and rose.

Death has not slain them

they are freed

not slain.

It is the gate of life

and not of death

That they have en­tered; and the grave in vain

Has tried to sti­fle the im­mor­tal breath.

All that was death in them is now dis­solved;

For death can on­ly what is death’s de­stroy;

And when this earth’s short ag­es have re­volved

The dis­im­pri­soned life comes forth with joy.

Their life long bat­tle with dis­ease and pain

And mor­tal wea­ri­ness

is ov­er now;

Youth

health

and come­li­ness re­turn again

The tear has left the cheek

the sweat the brow.

They are not tast­ing death

but tak­ing rest

On the same ho­ly couch where Je­sus lay

Soon to awake all glo­ri­fied and blest

When day has broke and sha­dows fled away.