Volume 37 — EASTER DAY.

Awake, pretty flowers Asleep in the snows, For this is the morning When Jesus arose. Each lily he loved In the meadows of old, Will welcome the Master With blossoms of gold. Ye violets, sweet with The breath of the South; Anemone blushing, With rosy-lipped mouth; Arbutus, half-hiding Your delicate grace— The Savior has risen, Behold ye his face! The types of his death And rising are ye. Fair gems of the meadow, Bright buds of the lea. "Messiah is living!" The cherubim say; Shine forth in your beauty To greet him to-day! —Sel.