A most Godly and Comfortable Ballad of the Glorious
Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, how he Triumphed over Death, Hell, and Sin,
whereby we are certainly perswaded of our Rising again from the Dead.
The Tune is, Rogero.
|
WHat faithless, froward, sinful Man,
|
so far from grace is fled,
|
That doth not in his heart believe
|
the rising of the D[e]ad;
|
Or why do wicked Mortal Men
|
their lives so vainly frame,
|
That being dead, they do suppose
|
they shall not rise again.
|
For why if that the dead indeed,
|
which now consuming lies,
|
Shall not by God be rais'd again,
|
then Christ did never rise;
|
And if so be our Saviour sweet,
|
did not rise from the Death,
|
Our Preaching is of no effect,
|
and vain our hope on Earth.
|
If Christ rose not again, I say,
|
then are we yet in sin,
|
And they that fall asleep in him,
|
no part of joy shall win:
|
Of all the Creatures living, then,
|
which God on Earth did frame,
|
Most wretched are the states of Men
|
which spend their days in vain.
|
But Christ is risen up from Death,
|
as it was right and meet,
|
And thereby trod down Death and Hell,
|
and Sin, under his feet;
|
And that the same to simple Men,
|
the plainer might appear,
|
The glorious rising of the Lord,
|
his Word declareth clear.
|
When he within the Grave was laid,
|
the Jews did watch-men set,
|
Left by his friends his Corps from thence
|
should secretly be set:
|
A mighty Stone likewise they did
|
on his Sepulchre role,
|
And all for fear his body should
|
away from thence be stole.
|
BUt in the dead time of the Night,
|
a m[i]ghty Earth-quake came,
|
The which did shake both Sea and Land,
|
and all within the same:
|
And then the Angel of the Lord
|
came down from Heaven so high,
|
And roll'd away the mighty Stone
|
which on the ground did lie.
|
His face did shine like flaming fire,
|
his Cloaths were white as Snow,
|
Which put the watch-men in great fear,
|
who ran away for woe;
|
And told unto the High Priest plain,
|
what I do now rehearse,
|
Who hired them for Money straight,
|
that they would hold their peace.
|
And say, quoth he, his Servants came,
|
whom he sometimes did keep,
|
And secretly stole him away,
|
while ye were fast asleep:
|
And if that Herod hear thereof,
|
we will perswade him so,
|
That you shall find no hurt at all,
|
where ever you do go.
|
But faithful Mary Magdalen,
|
and James her Brother too,
|
They brought great store of Oyntment
|
as Jesus were wont to do:
|
Who rose up early in the Morn
|
before that it was day,
|
The body of the Lord t'annoint,
|
in Grace whereas he lay.
|
And when unto the Grave they came,
|
they were in wondrous fear,
|
They saw a Young-man in the same,
|
but Christ they saw not there:
|
Then said the Angel unto them,
|
why are you so afraid?
|
The Lord whom you do seek, I know,
|
is risen up, he said.
|
Then went these Women both away,
|
who told these tydings than
|
To John and Peter, who in haste
|
to the Sepulchre ran;
|
Who found it as the Woman said,
|
and then away did go;
|
But Mary stayed weeping still,
|
whose tears declar'd her woe.
|
Who looking down into the Grave,
|
two Angels there did see;
|
Quoth they, Why weeps this Woman so,
|
even for my Lord, quoth she:
|
And turning then herself about,
|
as she stood weeping so,
|
The Lord was standing at her back,
|
but him she did not know.
|
Why doth this Woman weep, he said,
|
whom seek'st thou in this place?
|
She thought it had the Gard'ner been,
|
and thus me shews her case;
|
If thou hast born him hence, she said,
|
then tell me where he is,
|
And for to fetch him back again,
|
be sure I will not miss.
|
What Mary! then our Saviour said,
|
dost thou lament for me;
|
O Master livest thou again,
|
my Soul doth joy in thee;
|
O Mary, touch me not, he said,
|
e're I have been above
|
Even with my God, the only God,
|
and Father whom we love.
|
And oftentimes did Christ appear,
|
to his Disciples all;
|
Yet Thomas would not it believe,
|
his Faith it was so small,
|
Except that he might thrust his hand
|
into the wound so wide,
|
And put his finger where the Spear
|
did pierce his tender side.
|
Then Christ which knew all secrets,
|
to them again came he,
|
Who said to Thomas, here I am,
|
as plainly thou may'st see:
|
See here the hands which nails did pierce
|
and holes are in my side;
|
And be not faithless, O thou Man,
|
for whom these pains I 'bide.
|
Thus sundry times Christ shew'd himself,
|
when he did rise again,
|
And then ascended into Heaven,
|
in Glory for to Reign:
|
Where he prepares a place for those
|
whom he shall raise likewise,
|
To live with him in Heavenly bliss,
|
above the lofty Skies.
|
|
|
|
|
|