Poem: 'The Seraphim'

I see no more Thy cross, O holy Slain!
I hear no more the horror and the coil
of the great world’s turmoil
Feeling Thy countenance too still , — nor yell
Of demons sweeping past it to their prison.
The skies that turned to darkness with Thy pain
make now a summer’s day;
And on my changed ear that sabbath bell
records how CHRIST IS RISEN.

–Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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