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Christian Easter Poems | Christian Poems About Easter

These Christian Easter poems are examples of Christian poems about Easter. These are the best examples of Christian Easter poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

Mary Magdalene

One summer eve in Galilee
I stood before my open door;
To me it seemed just one more night--
Like all the others gone before.
Someone would come and, passing by,
Would hear the tinkling of the bells,
Would see the garish harlot's robe
And painted eyes beneath my veil.
Someone, a man like all the rest--
It did not matter much to me--
A nobleman, Samaritan,
A Roman or a Pharisee,
Someone would pause and with one glance
Strip me again of maiden pride,
And leaving, later, never know
The shame and shattered dreams I hide.
O, he would think me very gay;
He would not see my hollow heart
Nor hear me curse him for his pay.
T was then I saw a band of men
Approaching down the narrow road;
There should be one among that crowd
Who wants the favors I bestow.
Kind eyes met mine, and with one look,
He saw what others could not see;
He saw the hunger of my soul,
My loneliness and misery.

I only know that since that day
I live to walk along with Him.
His look of love has changed my life;
I need not sell my love again.
Tonight He sups at Simon's house__
All day the dusty paths we roamed;
But, still he waits, unwashed, unkissed;
Small courtesies no one has shown.
My love for Him! It rolls and swells
Till from His side I cannot stay;
I'll wash His feet with tears of love
And with my hair wipe them away.


Details | Light Poetry | |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.


Details | Rhyme | |

Tender of Roses

Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your colored petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?

For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.

From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.

As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.


Details | Ballade | |

Sea impression

                 
                 Wave a sea softened
                  and a pain and a tenderness
                   throw dreams in fascination
                   of the blue.
                   And let shave the waves of
                   Your eternity , oh, weigh
                    above me,
                    oh,weigh a  coast of years.
                    Carry far in azure, spiral
                    ships,
                    with bulging little abdomens,
                    flutter with mahagony pinions
                    and already in vain  expect you
                    to stop the scales harbours 
                    with hot flames for You are
                    open.
                    Far away, far away ,far away,
                    stretched string,
                    heart and frank await the 
                    hymn of June.
                    All sea sisters are dressed in
                    mother-of-pearl garment
                    embroidered of kiss of 
                    eternity. 
                    In the morning hunts them
                    fishermen and revive with
                    breath of their man’s hands.
                    In the evening girls wash 
                    their black tunics,
                    in their blue hearts,
                    their feet white ,who cadge
                    heavy chains.
                    The night is squeezed enigma
                    and ugly,
                    predatory like a bat pecking
                    of scarlet fig.
                    Sea sisters, sea sisters,
                    remember His steps 
                    which go through you noiselessly,
                  and ou swing like
                  bloody wine-
                 hold in His fingers Herod,
                 Pilate washes his hands,
                in Yours heirs
               and they bristled like winter
               icicles bristles of innoncent blood .
               There at Golgotha 
                hearing terrible cry,
                blood gushes like
               wounded river disappear
               like Easter roses,
              in weeds of flushed 
     preditory crowd,
     to open way of
     saving.
     Who is He?
     Do you heard 
     His name ?
     He is Messiah,
     God’s anoited
      Jesus Christ.
      Like little sheeps,
      clouds of candy floss,
      they welcome festivaly.
       Barefooted are feet 
      of lovely swarthy steps
     of the sun, came to bow,
      before You , Creator.
      The sea throws his 
       magnificent silver flesh,
      blue like heavently lace,
       to swallow all stars 
       only Bethlehem’s
      stays inextinguishable,
       pretty like uncreated
      like an apple of not 
      born girl.      


Details | Rhyme | |

The True Meaning of Easter

The True Meaning of Easter! The true meaning of the Easter story, Is God’s Son came down to Earth from glory. Jesus really does love you and me. He was born to die that you might be free. For 33 years, he lived among sinful men. Then one day was to be an atonement for our sin. He who was born of the virgin Mary’s womb. Was to one day rise again from an empty tomb. So many people today have gotten into a bad habit, of replacing Jesus with the bunny rabbit. So please reach out to others and let them know, Of the lover and redeemer of their soul. The true meaning of Easter must forever be said. Of God’s son who died, but arose from the dead! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Lyric | |

I Wonder

I wonder what the people thought
Who did not know the prisoner's name;
So many men had staggered by
In public solitude and shame,
What was He more than other men
Who'd walked outside the walls to die,
And those with tears who followed Him--
Do not most dead leave some who cry?

I wonder what the children thought,
Who just a few short days before
Had waved palm branches in the street,
Crying, "Hosanna, to the Lord!"
Why was the kindest man they knew,
Who understood their ways and needs,
Bearing a cross through Jerusalem
Like those who did unrighteous deeds.

I wonder what the soldiers thought
Who rudely mocked a silent king;
How many flogged and tortured so
Had never spoken anything?
Was only one of all who stood 
On guard for Rome to watch Him die 
Able to say with contrite heart,
"This is God's Son; He did not lie."

I wonder what the women thought,
The ones who would not hide in fear
But followed even to the cross
To watch him die through veils of tears.
Did they not know that He could take
Their dreams safely through death with Him
And on the third day rise again
Triumphant over death and sin.

I wonder what we would have thought
In our self-righteous ignorance;
What role would you or I have played,
If we had known such circumstance?
Would I have been a Pharisee,
Or just a stranger passing by,
Herod, Pilate, a Roman guard,
Or a Mary on the day Christ died?


Details | Rhyme | |

THE LOVE OF GOD

The love of God what can I say
It's there for all to see
It was love that sent his only son
To die for you and me.

There is no other love like this
That He should die for man
Before the foundations of the earth
It was salvations plan.

This amazing love from God to man
Is summed up like this for me
Jesus Christ him crucified
At the place called Calvary.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Blood Of JESUS

The Blood of Jesus saved my soul
The Blood of Jesus
Made me whole.

The Blood of Jesus is
The means by which
I have become truly Rich.
I speak not of mere material things
But the Hope of Glory which it brings.

As we think of His Blood,
Let us not forget the Man,
Nor fail to realize that He has 
A Master Plan.

For us He has made the Ultimate Sacrifice,
And now, it is only fair for us to give him
Our lives.

There really is no doubt about it,
He is in control,
And He also has the power
To make you whole.

So won’t you seek him out
Today?
He is sure to set your life
On the upward way.


Details | Epic | |

The Centurion

He hated his posting here;
Rome had sent him here as punishment;
He was sure of that;
These people were a stubborn lot; 
He hated them most of all;
Then he met the prisoner.
He was supposed to be some kind of king.

Pilate had interviewed this man;
Now the other guards were mocking him;
They fashioned a crown of thorns for His head;
They forced it upon him;
Blood came pouring down;
Yet the king didn't utter a sound.

The guards stripped the king;
They placed on him a purple robe;
The mockery was intense;
Yet this king was different in some way;
He didn't utter a sound.

Then they began to beat the king;
The centurion simply watched;
This was no ordinary man;
The man simply offered them his back;
Then the centurion heard the man pray;
The man was forgiving his captors!

Pilate had ordered the man to be crucified;
So they led the figure out;
He was now beaten and battered;
Could He even carry the cross;
The centurion wished it was all over;
This prisoner didn't deserve any of this.

The centurion made another man carry the cross;
Soon they topped the hill;
Here they stripped the prisoner;
They laid Him on the cross;
As they drove the nails;
The centurion heard Him pray;
He was forgiving them for killing Him!

The centurion had heard of this prisoner;
He now remembered Him well;
The prisoner claimed to be the Son of God;
He had performed many miracles;
The centurion wished to see one now;
He wished the man would come down from the cross!

The sky around them began to darken;
The centurion watched the man on the cross;
The man looked at the centurion;
"I love you and forgive you",  written in His eyes;
The centurion's heart was breaking inside;
The man on the cross breathed His last.

The earth rattled as an earthquake struck;
Tombs opened and dead men walked;
The centurion was oblivious to it all;
He seen only the dead man on the cross;
His knew now within his heart;
He had crucified the Son of God.


Details | Narrative | |

The Carpenter

The Galilean sun smiled down
Upon the dusty little town
And lingered o'er one humble spot,
A peasant's home and modest shop.
Long shafts of light fell 'cross the door
To lay bright carpets on the floor
Where children played in perfect peace
About the shop. Their joy increased
Each time they caught a glimpse of Him,
The carpenter who worked within.

His face was gentle, eyes were kind;
And  as He worked, He did not mind
Their ceaseless chatter, endless play
Nor did He find them in His way.
Their laughter rippled round the room;
They scattered sawdust with a broom.
The woodchips falling at His feet
Became for them a fishing fleet
Or beds and chairs for little dolls,
A manger or a cattle stall.

Surrounded by the commonplace;
And yet, uncommon was the grace
With which He faced each daily task
As if all Heav'n lay in His grasp.
A carpenter He was by trade;
The wood responded, unafraid.
Beneath His hands each piece was formed
Into an object to perform
Some deed of usefulness or skill,
The needs of men to fitly fill.

Precise He was in all His craft
From oxen yoke to shepherd's staff
To couches for a nobleman;
He was a careful artisan.
Each part was polished, sanded, ground;
No painful splinters could be found
To pierce the flesh of those who bought
The items fashioned in His ship.
There wood was sacrificed for man
Beneath its own Creator's hands.

Does it seem strange that He would die,
Suspended between earth and sky,
Upon two rugged beams of wood,
This carpenter whose work was good?


Details | Couplet | |

WHY ARE WE HERE

Copyright © 2012 
12/17/2012 
(A Purpose So Clear) 

Like children we fear 
  In secret a somber tear 

Like learning to walk 
 Babies listen to talk 

And reach for a hand 
  To help them stand 

This too, we all must do 
  By HIS Hand made anew 


by: LP


Details | I do not know? | |

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries.

Epochs apart, yet,
bound by conscience,

Buddha, 
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

Enduring the whispers of time,
through creeds professed,
sermons preached,
and a million sins confessed.

Though,

the essence,
of these banished revolutionaries,
is ceremonially muted by ritual,
and gleefully crushed under,
grandiose edifices,
that serve Religion Inc.

"And the meek shall inherit the earth",
an incendiary thought,
conveniently discarded,
for the pie in the sky that must be sought.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
stings.
stabs,
whispers still,
for us to hear,
through the din of the cacophony of prayer.

Buddha,
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
persists,
each day that we choose,
to shun the meek,
and mouth conscience-salving prayers,

for yet more silver,
and yet more silk.


Details | Sonnet | |

Sin Has No Hold ON Me

On this most holy of days
I stop for a moment to think
Of sin and its horrible stink
I begin to mend my ways
I give jesus the praise
I no longer at sin will wink
Now it makes me blink
I care what Jesus says
He is my Savior now
He died to make me whole
At my sin He didn't scowl
He gave His life for my soul
He died to set me free
Now sin has no hold on me!


Details | Lyric | |

Quiet

Moments of quiet unfolding:
Quiet probing my spirit's depths, 
Like a rose, petals unfolding
To drink in the dawn's sweet breath.
Quiet like the peace that lingered
O're the waters the Master stilled;
Quiet that in the tomb trembled,
Pregnant, waiting to be fulfilled.
Quiet that marched on the victor
Robbing death and defeating sin;
Quiet that stood in the garden
And shouted, "Christ risen again!"
Quiet that is the cloak wrapping
God the Father, Spirit and Son,
Before whom life's vulgar turmoil
Surrenders her tongue and is dumb.


Details | Lyric | |

Your Rose

Lord, I would be like Your own sweet Rose
When underneath the world's vain rush
I have been bruised; a wounded thrush,
Whose song is trapped within its throat,
Who cannot lift to voice one note
Its weary head and sorrow knows.

Though I be trampled 'neath the throngs
Of grasping, pleasure seeking souls
And waves of pain high in me roll,
I would be crushed in silence, deep,
That even my inmost soul would keep
And whisper not of how was wronged.

But ever, as with vengeance black,
They tramp the petals, limp and torn,
Would send forth fragrance, sweet and warm,
And bless the feet of that mad crowd,
Beneath their onslaught remain bowed
And by Your love turn hatred back.

It was Your wounding, sacred Rose,
The fragrance of Your love for me
Blown by the winds of infamy
Down from that dark hill, Calvary,
That brought Your passion home to me
And feeds the flower which in me grows.


Details | Couplet | |

A New Dawn

Copyright © 2013
1/22/2013

A New Dawn in His Glory
  foretold in a biblical story

Coming for those preparing
  skyward we will be starring

Like descending parachutes
  sounds of trumpets and flutes

Captivating our hearts
  giving us a new start

A New Dawn is coming 
  listen, nature is humming

Idelology clashing blows
  a tale between 2 foes

Revelations foretold a day
  when more begin to pray

World events getting crazier
  humanity's future  hazier

Waiting on ONE to stop this mess
  or, were we just another lab test?


by LP


Details | Narrative | |

Prelude

The little hand lay open in his mother's palm;
Large tears washed streaks of white across two dirty cheeks.
His soft, dark eyes were wide with innocence and pain,
And small, trembling lips found it difficult to speak.

She held him close and wiped the spot of blood away
And applied to the injury a bit of balm.
"Now, don't cry; a carpenter often hurts his hands.
All will be well. Shall Mama sing to you a psalm?"

The child's sobs hushed; all around the house grew still
Save for the sound of Joseph's tools against the wood.
"Sing the shepherd's psalm, Mama; sing of the way through
Death's shadowed valley and the Shepherd who is good."

Mary pressed his rosy cheek closer to her breast;
Her eyes welled up with stinging tears; her face grew pale.
She held the little injured hand and knew not why
She trembled so at the imprint of one small nail.


Details | Rhyme | |

He is Alive

He is Alive
Dr. James E. Martin
©March, 2013


He went triumphantly up Calvary’s hill
Though many saw no triumph there.
The victory He secured will remain until
The curse is not found anywhere.

He bled and died a horrible death
To provide eternal hope for all.
This hope is beyond life’s final breath
To all who for salvation call.

Though many will mock and this truth ignore
There is Truth beyond man’s feeble mind.
There is life as you enter through Jesus, the Door
In doing, eternal life you will find.




Details | Rhyme | |

The Sacrifice

God required a sacrifice,
Unspotted, perfect, clean;
Nothing less than His own Son,
The sacrifice supreme.

His life was laid down willingly
To redeem lost, fallen man,
Without protest, without a word,
My sacrificial Lamb.

His blood was shed, poured out,
My soul to purify;
The Spirit's all consuming fire
The sacrifice applies.

Blessed, holy Son of God,
Sweet perfume, divine,
The essence of Your sacrifice
Has won this heart of mine.


Details | Pastoral | |

The Last Hour of the Christ

I wear the crown of hatred
misunderstanding and despair upon my hair
upon my back a wooden cross I bare
I know not why I’m hated so
all the people seemed to love me just a week ago

my skin is cut from head to toe
from whips of leather by men who wish to see me die
I spoke the truth for all the people to understand
my words of truth where words to set man free
from degradation hate and hell to live in harmony
for the rest of history

I cured the sick and healed the blind
with the touch of my own hand
I’ve walked on water and walked on sand
to preach and bring my truth through out the land 

people came from all around 
and would sit for hours upon the ground
I once had twelve good men who followed me around
now there’s only eleven one man let me down

my words have been mistaken
my God he has forsaken 
for that my life they’re taken
I believe that I have failed 
as my hands and feet are nailed upon this wooden cross
as they raise me in the air
all their sins I know I must bare

I want to scream not fair not fair
I’m just a young man I only wanted to teach
there are so many more people that I wanted to reach
my age is only thirty three
I pray my God
that they the people will remember me

written by Dennis H. Davis 
This poem was written from the human aspect of Jesus Christ. I wrote this poem with no effort what so ever it was as though it was being told to me. I watched my hand move across the page with a purpose a message I believe Jesus wanted this poem written.


Details | Lyric | |

Song of the Troubadour

A troubadour came by my house;
Beneath my window he did sing.
I'd never heard such melody
Or listened to like lyrics ring.
He sang a song I understood,
A song of love for me alone;
And , gazing through the latticed frame,
I knew that I would be his own.

The haunting strains, they wound their way,
Even before I could resist,
My heart was bound by cords of love;
Forever to his song I'd list.
"I long to follow you." I cried,
"Fair, wand'ring minstrel, gay and free;
I want to be your gypsy bride
And sing sweet songs of love with thee."

He bade me follow with a look--
A look my tongue cannot describe--
So tender that my heart leaped up.
"I'll follow you! Oh, yes!" I cried.
T was then I saw, just as I turned 
To go with love forevermore,
What I had thought a laurel wreath
Was but a crown of thorns he wore.

The robe which from his shoulders hung--
It had seemed spotless, white as snow;
But, then I saw it stained with blood.
Yet, still with him I longed to go.
His feet and hands were bruised and torn;
"Oh, who had wounded one so good!"
Just then I saw the lute he played
Was but a rugged cross of wood.

"Oh, Love!" I cried, "Dear, fairest one,
Who dared to harm and hurt you so!"
And then I heard the song again...
"It was for you; did you not know?"
"For me? I do not understand;
T was just today I heard your song."
He turned to speak what now I know.
"My love," he said, "I called you long."

We sing the song together now;
Each day is but a new refrain.
Yet, still I marvel when I hear
A note of joy wrung out of pain.
I did not know when first I heard
His music calling to my heart
That love is not triumphant
Till wounded, pierced and torn apart.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day The Stone Cried Out

The stones were silent on that day when Jesus rode to town
While cries of loud hosannas came from people all around.
Some said that they should hold their peace and tried to still their voice,
But Jesus said if they would stop, the rocks would then rejoice.
But these were not the stones God chose to lift their voice to praise,
And so the voices of the crowd continued to be raised.
Then soon this happy crowd became a mocking crowd that cried,
“Away with Him!  Away with Him!  Let Him be crucified!”
He trudged along a stony street, the heavy cross He bore,
His body bleeding from the wounds and crown of thorns He wore.
And these stones, too, were silent as He headed up the hill,
For they were not the ones to speak, nor was it yet God’s will.
Then darkness veiled the noonday sky there on that awful day
When Jesus was left all alone, His Father turned away.
And as He spoke those final words, an earthquake shook the ground
And some were raised to life again from gravesides all around.
The restless rocks so wanted then to speak with their voice,
But they, too, then were quickly hushed, for they were not God’s choice.
They took the Savior from the cross unto a borrowed tomb,
They placed a stone to keep Him there and all seemed full of gloom.
This was a stone nobody thought would ever speak a word,
But after three days with a shout its loud, clear voice was heard.
That stone so silent all those years cried out upon that day
As with a thunder on the ground it loudly rolled away!
That was the stone that God had chose to cry to everyone
They could not keep that body there--He was God’s victorious Son!
That stone cried out that glorious morn, it still cries out today,
“The sting of death, the curse of sin is taken all away!”
That stone speaks of the one who died and went to hell for me
And conquered Satan and his foes and now He holds the keys!
That stone still cries to you today, oh listen to its voice,
Come to the Rock of Ages now--make Jesus Christ your choice!


Details | Rhyme | |

The Rose of the World

The Rose of the World went weeping
And many the tears the Rose shed;
They flowed like a river softly
On a world that was dry and dead.

The Rose of the World was heartsick;
The heart of the Rose broke and bled,
The mad world plaited a thorn crown
To cruelly pierce His fair head.

They crushed the Rose in its beauty,
And they nailed the Rose to a tree;
The Rose with His tears and His lifeblood
Emptied out His fragrance on me.


Details | Free verse | |

My God, How It Hurts

My God, How It Hurts

We have forgotten
How dangerous is this man
Refusing not to do miracles
Abjuring not to love
Going beyond His mother's pain
Beyond being a good son
To do the Father's will.

We have forgotten
The depth of evil
He allowed to drench Him
Bleed and bruise Him
Beyond all human endurance
Gleefully denying Him
For whom He was born to be.

We have forgotten
The love of the Father
So fully developed for us
He had to turn away
At that moment on the cruel cross
When God-given life
Was given up.

We have forgotten
How dangerous is this man
Whose love was more than life
This Son of God
Whose promise to us meant so much
That He shrugged off death
And He arose.

by E. Marshall Evans


Details | Rhyme | |

Because of Him

Because of Him the grass grows green 
And the sparrows sing their songs
The sunshine brings warmth to all the land
As the Easter season comes along. 
Because of Him, a child's birth
Is celebrated, sacred, and blessed 
An eight year-old child submersed in water
Cleansed and perfect, at their best.
Because of Him we can try again
Through prayer, we can be redeemed.
His gentle hands cleaning the apostles' feet
On His hands and knees, he scrubbed and cleaned.
Because of Him we have an example
And a path to follow every day of our lives
Where, if we follow the straight and narrow
With our parents, children, husbands, and wives,
We know that we'll reach His kingdom
Where He will greet us with arms outstretched
Call us by name, and welcome us home,
The kind lines on his face so delicately etched.
Because of Him, His sacrifice,
and the wounds that pierce His side,
Because of Him we can be whole again
Because he suffered, bled, and died.
Because of Him the sun on that Easter morn
Shined so perfectly on an empty tomb
Mary cried and wept, while He
Sought to ease her troubled gloom.
He lives today, He rose again
We will testify in every hymn
For today we rejoice, and celebrate
We have everything because of Him.


Sorry it's so delayed, but I'd forgotten to post this in time. This is my Easter poem
 for the year. Enjoy :) It was inspired by a large-scale campaign by my church titled
 "Because of Him"


Details | Rhyme | |

UPLIFTED

edifying with no limit;
praising wand worshiping with no rest,
glory with every blessing,
grace with kindness and humility.
reigning spirit with fresh afire,
loving without getting tired.
never giving up on hoping;
the essence of the holy spirit,
the embodiment of the word of it's promise,
true to the first calling to the end.
grace that strengthens,
truth that empowers.
uplifting that brings us back to the first love:
the love of being a servant,
which moves every heart with no doubt,
that to be uplifted,
you must frist be sympathetic and compassionate,
always giving of yourself.


Details | Lyric | |

Infinite Bridge

The sweet Lamb of God
was born to be the bridge
spanning the gulf between destruction and peace;
I can only cross safely
because He paid the price,
demanded by justice for my soul's release.

Chorus:
No mountain was ever higher
than His cross of agony;
no gulf was ever wider
than the one crossed for me.
His steps never faltered
as Christ carried sin's load,
all alone
to atone
up Calvary's road.

His arms formed a bridge
between heaven and hell,
stretching so wide to bring deliverance by grace.
His arms carry me surely
across the deep divide;
His blood paid the ransom my sin to erase.

Chorus:
No mountain was ever higher
than His cross of agony;
no gulf was ever wider
than the one crossed for me.
His steps never faltered
as Christ carried sin's load,
all alone
to atone
up Calvary's road.

Bridge:
Infinite bridge,
Incarnate Lamb,
Jesus Christ Savior,
the eternal I AM.
I can only cross safely 
because He paid the price,
demanded by justice for my soul's release.

October 8, 2014


Details | Free verse | |

The Daystar

The Daystar shines...

Gold for a King
Frankensence for a Priest
Myrrh for a Saviour.


The clouds gather...

Crown of thorns for a King
A seamless purple robe for a Priest
Sour vinegar on a stick for a suffering Saviour.


Then...

A throne for the King
Human temples for the Priest
Resurrection power for the Saviour

The Daystar shines in hearts...forever !.





Matthew 2:1 “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.”

2 Peter 19-20 We couldn’t be more sure of what we saw and heard—God’s glory, God’s voice. The prophetic Word was confirmed to us. You’ll do well to keep focusing on it. It’s the one light you have in a dark time as you wait for daybreak and the rising of the Morning Star (Daystar - KJV) in your hearts....

Merry Christmas & Happy Easter


Details | Free verse | |

Salvation

Oh Most Heavenly Farther 
please forgive me in my sins 
Gracious Star of Bethlehem 
I believe in your only Son crowned
Our Lord and King of Israel 
who died on the Holy Cross
arose on the third day 
A toll paid in our sins 
Master you paid the ultimate sacrifice 
guiding with your Holy Spirit 
makes me new again 
I believe in Our Saviors name 
forever and always Glory be 
Amen 



Details | Rhyme | |

The Bridge

Between my soul and God there yawns 
A chasm stretching out so wide
I cannot see the other side
From where I stand against the dawn.
How great the gulf of human pride,
Of degradation, sin and woe;
Yet, I the true depth do not know.
Nor can I judge it where I hide
Among the trees, all covered o'er
With self-made robes my mind contrives
Of dubious good deeds and lies,
Just withered fig leaves, nothing more.
My soul cries out in agony,
"Can no one turn the dreadful tide?"
And Christ, the one I have defied,
Stoops down to taste my misery.
My heart is wrung in Sorrow's grip;
An awful pounding fills the air,
And, like a dog in mad despair
With glassy eye and foaming lip,
I stare in holy terror now 
As upward, out of that dark deep,
A cross takes form. From steep to steep,
It spans the gulf to where I bow.
There, in my night, I dimly see
The Son of God slain, crucified:
How can two arms stretch out so wide
In love to bridge infinity?


Details | ABC | |

Resurrection Changes Things

What once required the sacrifice,
That bloody gift of death and gore,
Of animal life to pay for sin
Is left behind and is no more.
Resurrection changes things. 

Jesus Christ obeyed the Father,
Sacrificed Himself on the cross,
Evened up those holy books
That list our profit and our loss.
Resurrection changes things. 

Where once we followed our understanding
And made our own decisions,
Now belonging to Jesus Christ
Our life is one of holy revisions.
Resurrection changes things. 

When we're united with Jesus Christ
We're a new creature in the Son;
Our old way of life hangs dead on the cross
And life everlasting is now begun!
Resurrection changes things. 

No prison doors can hold our soul.
Christ sets our spirit free
And fills our life with love and hope
That rings our world in victory.
Resurrection changes things. 

So tell someone in the pain of their life
Of the freedom Jesus brings,
That sets us apart from sin and death;
How the soul that's set free sings!
Tell them:  Resurrection changes things. 

by E. Marshall Evans