(Lyra Messianica, 1864.) There Is Nothing More That They Can Do For All Their Rage And Boast; Caiaphas With His Blaspheming Crew, Herod With His Host, Pontius Pilate In His Judgement-Hall Judging Their Judge And His, Or He Who Led Them All And Passed Them All, Arch-Judas With His Kiss. The Sepulchre Made Sure With Ponderous Stone, Seal That Same Stone, O Priest; It May Be Thou Shalt Block The Holy One From Rising In The East: Set A Watch About The Sepulchre To Watch On Pain Of Death; They Must Hold Fast The Stone If One Should Stir And Shake It From Beneath. God Almighty, He Can Break A Seal And Roll Away A Stone, Can Grind The Proud In Dust Who Would Not Kneel, And Crush The Mighty One. * * * * * * * There Is Nothing More That They Can Do For All Their Passionate Care, Those Who Sit In Dust, The Blessed Few, And Weep And Rend Their Hair: Peter, Thomas, Mary Magdalene, The Virgin Unreproved, Joseph, With Nicodemus, Foremost Men, And John The Well-Beloved, Bring Your Finest Linen And Your Spice, Swathe The Sacred Dead, Bind With Careful Hands And Piteous Eyes The Napkin Round His Head; Lay Him In The Garden-Rock To Rest; Rest You The Sabbath Length: The Sun That Went Down Crimson In The West Shall Rise Renewed In Strength. God Almighty Shall Give Joy For Pain, Shall Comfort Him Who Grieves: Lo! He With Joy Shall Doubtless Come Again, And With Him Bring His Sheaves.