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Is it a dream, a myth, the blessed story
Of Christ our Saviour and His precious cross?”

O friends! bring not your spices to embalm Him,
The Lord you seek is risen from the grave;
He knows the feeble faith, the sore temptations.
Of those that once He gave His life to save.

The highest blessing waits for the believing,
But Christ the Lord has gifts for all His own;
Of old, to one who, doubting Him, yet loved Him,
The nail-prints in His hands and feet were shown.

“Give us a sign!” cries out the world that hates Him,
The Master, as of old, makes no reply;
But, to the heart of every true disciple,
Be sure the blessed Saviour will draw nigh,