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Then was a task of glory all thine own, Nobler than e'er the still small voice assigned To lips, in awful music making known The stormy splendours of some prophet's mind. "Christ is arisen!"—by thee, to wake mankind, First from the sepulchre those words were brought! Thou wert to send the mighty rushing wind First on its way, with those high tidings fraught— "Christ is arisen!"—Thou, thou, the sin enthralled, Earth's outcast, Heaven's own ransomed one, wert called In human hearts to give that rapture birth: Oh! raised from shame to brightness!—there doth lie The tenderest meaning of His ministry, Whose undespairing love still owned the spirit’s worth.