The Poetry Corner

His Coming To The Sepulchre.

By Robert Herrick

Hence they have borne my Lord; behold! the stone Is rolled away and my sweet Saviour's gone. Tell me, white angel, what is now become Of Him we lately sealed up in this tomb? Is He, from hence, gone to the shades beneath, To vanquish hell as here He conquered death? If so, I'll thither follow without fear, And live in hell if that my Christ stays there. Of all the good things whatsoe'er we do, God is the {ARCH}, and the {TELOS} too.