Volume 3 — HOLY SATURDAY.
Reading edition
Through that Jewish Sabbath day, Through our Holy Saturday, Thus he lay: In his linen winding-sheet, Wrapped in myrrh and spices sweet, Angels at his head and feet; Angels, duteous alway, Watched the wondrous beauteous clay As he lay. Through that Jewish Sabbath day, Through our Holy Saturday. Thus he lay And our mother Church this day Doth with solemn Office keep That strange day's mysterious sleep; Her "Exultet" breaks the sadness With triumphant strains of gladness; Paschal hope presaging morn, As in east just streaks the dawn; Darkest night ere brightest day; Such is Holy Saturday.
{635}