|
When it was evening , there came a rich man of Arimathaea, called Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate ordered it to be
handed over. St. Matthew, 27:57,58 Nicodemus came as well - the same one who had first come to Jesus at night-time - and he brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes... St. John, 19:39 |
Where now's the crowd? Why is there no parade? No requiem procession? He is dead. The King is dead. No queues of mourners led by somber song? No full-dressed troops to braid the way through weeping throngs as He's relayed upon their shoulders? Where's his final bed? His ornate marble tomb? In silence tread the few who bear his body to be laid. Then to a borrowed crypt they come. They clean his corpse and wrap it with aloes and myrrh, the bitter and the sweet. And through the sheen of prism tears Him to the vault inter. Then at the portal of this stone hewn tomb a boulder's placed. Inside abides death's doom. |
|
So Peter set out with the other disciple to go to the tomb. They ran together, but the other disciple, running faster than Peter,
reached the tomb first; he bent down and saw the linen clothes lying on the ground, but did not go in. St. John, 20:3-5 |
lies cold? The men who stood afar to view our Lord endure his death? How could they've done, these few who'll lead his birthing Church from new beginning into present times, this act of cowardice? But here, with hearts that fall down to remorse they humbly mourn the fact they sin and on God's living love they call. For from this tomb the bread of life awakes. Beyond its door the holy Christ presides. The tabernacle in each church now states to all adorers "Our Lord here abides." And God's forgiveness out its door does shine while he slays Death and Love proclaims divine. |
Look, I am coming soon, |
III Oh yes, the morn does come and Christ does rise and all who love Him kiss his feet. That world which is, that kingdom come, now truly lies in loving hearts who die and rise to pearled redeeming light which comes from God adored! The souls who share your endless love proclaim that You are Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord! You cleanse all faults, all loveless selfish shame. You are our God! Our risen Lord! The King to whom all heaven bows. Who gives to each a measured time to seek out love to sing God's praise. And then you call us to death's breach. Yes, even we with human limits may, by your great love, rise to eternal day. To you almighty God: all thanks, all praise, all glory.
© E. David
|