1 All day the Shepherd sought the sheep,
And called them home to rest;
His pierced head now pillowed lies
On earth’s green, gentle breast.
2 At least, she loved Him as her child,
And did her Maker hail;
For in His hour of anguished pain
Her very sun grew pale.
3 He trod her thorniest, dreary ways,
With footprints traced in blood;
He knew the guerdon waiting Him—
The nails and cross of wood!
4 To see God thus, the holy ones
In lowly reverence bow;
But His own brethren marked not
The glory round His brow.
5 He bears long years of toil and pain,
And pays for them the price;
He pours at last His life blood out
To crown the sacrifice.
6 Now for a space the earth He made
Holds Him in her embrace;
While soft white wings of angels round
Guard well the holy place.
7 Soon will He waken. Night speeds fast,
The golden day is near;
The eastern sky is glowing now
And signs of dawn appear!
8 A ray of Heaven’s glory bright
Pierces death’s dark, ancient prison;
The angels fold their pinions now
And whisper, "He is ris’n."
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #13493