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John Brownlie


Past the cross with all its shame,

All its grief and gloom;

Past the solitude of death

In the silent tomb:

Lo, the Victor from the strife,

Giver of Immortal life.

Stands He there on Olivet,

With an outstretched hand,

Calling His last blessing down,

On His faithful band,

Ere He mounts the azure height

Past the range of mortal sight.

Bow, ye heavens, in reverence low;

Clouds, a pathway clear;

For the Christ, who came to earth,

Mounts the glowing sphere;

Stand, ye heavenly gates, aside,

For He enters to abide.


Angels look with wondering gaze,

As their Lord draws nigher;

Why these wounded hands and feet?

And that stained attire?

Hail! the God-man from the strife,

Wins for man immortal life.

All alone, the faithful gaze

Towards the silent skies;

For the Christ hath passed beyond

Love's enquiring eyes;

But our flesh is knit to His

Where the ascended God-man is.

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