Our ward choir – a pretty good one, for its size, with a skilled conductor and more excellent accompanists than any ward has a right to have – sang as one of its numbers this morning “Jerusalem” (words by Frederick E. Weatherly; music by Michael Maybrick). The arrangement featured soloists for the verses and the whole choir coming in for the refrain.

Last night I lay a-sleeping, there came a dream so fair,
I stood in old Jerusalem beside the temple there.
I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang,
Methought the voice of angels from Heav’n in answer rang;
Methought the voice of angels from Heav’n in answer rang:—
“Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Lift up your gates and sing,
Hosanna in the highest, hosanna to your King!”

And then methought my dream was chang’d, the streets no longer rang,
Hush’d were the glad hosannas the little children sang.
The sun grew dark with mystery, the morn was cold and chill,
As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill,
As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
“Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Hark! how the angels sing,
Hosanna in the highest, hosanna to your King.”

And once again the scene was chang’d, new earth there seem’d to be,
I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;
The light of God was on its streets, the gates were open wide,
And all who would might enter, nd no one was denied.
No need of moon or stars by night, or sun to shine by day,
It was the new Jerusalem, that would not pass away,
It was the new Jerusalem, that would not pass away.
“Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Sing, for the night is o’er!
Hosanna in the highest, hosanna for evermore!
Hosanna in the highest, hosanna for evermore!”

As I listened to it, for the first time I noticed something missing. I was sure that when I got home and googled the words, I would discover that this performance had omitted a verse. But no, as far as I can discover, this is the full hymn.

But something is missing, especially as an Easter hymn. We have a verse that refers to Palm Sunday, when Jesus entered Jerusalem for the last time, to the cheers and hosannas of the crowd. We have the Crucifixion, which, chill though it was, could not silence the hosanna of the angels. But then we jump way, way ahead, to some as-yet-unfilled future, when the New Jerusalem symbolizes the millennial reign of the Savior.

There is no reference to the Resurrection. No greeting the risen King, no hosannas for the morning after the night that had been the only experience of mankind from the beginning of time.

Our ward bulletin this morning featured a picture of Christ appearing to the woman at the open tomb, and quoted the testimony of Joseph Smith (D&C 76:22-23) “That he lives!” There were two beautiful potted Easter lilies on the old ward clerk’s desk at the front of the chapel. The congregation sang “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” and “He is Risen” for our opening and closing hymns. We had two choir numbers that featured the suffering and death of the Lord. We had three speakers whose theme was the Atonement. Two of them mentioned the Resurrection, in passing, in catalogs of why Jesus is Lord … but beyond the congregational hymns, nobody spoke or sang about the Resurrection in any direct way. What we had was fine – I’m not faulting it – but the special glory of Easter is the Resurrection, and I missed that in our services today.

Of all the things I claim to know, or believe, or have faith in or hope for, one of the strongest is that life continues after death, and that those who once lived on this earth go on in some form after death, and that their personalities endure as individuals – there is no “melting” into some indiscriminate “mind of God” or “universal soul,” but each spirit retains his or her distinctness as an individual, with his or her own strengths and memories and quirks and loves and sense of humor – oh, the sense of humor of my great-great-grandfather George Bradford Parshall! it endures! – and all other traits that made them individuals while they lived here on earth.

I know this by every means I have of knowing anything: If I can trust the physical impressions of my eyes and ears, I know it. If I can trust the sense of peace in my heart, I know it. If I can trust the other-worldly senses that have sometimes reassured me that I was not alone, that the people for whom I am working are aware of my offering and are literally present to give protection and encouragement when needed, I know it. If I can trust the testimony of others, I know it. If I can trust the logic and reason of the revealed plan of salvation, I know it. If I cannot trust those ways of knowing, then I know nothing about anything of any kind. I do know, though, that life – individual life – goes on. Our spirits endure.

Faith and hope and trust in the Resurrection of Christ as an accomplished fact, and in the literal physical resurrection of those I have loved – of myself – of everyone I can conceive of ever having lived on this earth – comes from most of the same ways of knowing. To the best of my awareness, I have never seen nor heard a resurrected being … but the testimony of others who have, the peace spoken in my heart, the logic of the gospel, all assure me that our bodies will live again just as surely as our spirits continue to live after death. We will live again. My mother will put her arms around me again. I will see and hear and put my arms around those I once knew on earth, and those I have come to love by learning of their lives here. Our illnesses and weaknesses will be healed, and we will live forever, in the perfect flesh, because Jesus Christ conquered death and rose again on the third day.

He is risen! He is risen! Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days’ prison; let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered; man is free. Christ has won the victory.

Come with high and holy hymning; Christ our Lord’s triumphant lay.
Not one darksome cloud is dimming yonder glorious morning ray,
Breaking o’er the purple east, symbol of our Easter feast.

He is risen! He is risen! He hath opened heaven’s gate.
We are free from sin’s dark prison, risen to a holier state.
And a brighter Easter beam on our longing eyes shall stream.

(words by Cecil Frances Alexander; music by Joachim Neander)

Until that “brighter Easter beam” calls us forth from our own graves, to stand before God in the flesh with our loved ones and all who have lived on this earth, an annual remembrance of that first Easter gives us our hope, in every sense.

Happy Easter.

(I don’t know what artist to credit for the illustration; if you know, please mention it in a comment.) — Edit: The artist is James Martin. Thanks, JR.