Break the box and shed the nard; stop not now to count the cost;
Hither bring pearl, opal, sard; reck not what the poor have lost;
Upon Christ throw all away: know ye, this is Easter Day.
Build His Church and deck His shrine, empty though it be on earth;
Ye have kept your choicest wine – let it flow for heavenly mirth;
Pluck the harp and breathe the horn: know ye not ‘tis Easter morn?
Gather gladness from the skies; take a lesson from the ground;
Flowers do ope their heavenward eyes and a Spring-time joy have found;
Earth throws Winter’s robes away, decks herself for Easter Day.
Beauty now for ashes wear, perfumes for the garb of woe,
Chaplets for disheveled hair, dances for sad footsteps slow;
Open wide your hearts that they let in the joy this Easter Day.
Seek God’s house in happy throng; crowded let His table be;
Mingle praise, prayer, and song, singing to the Trinity.
Henceforth let your souls always make each morn an Easter Day.
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