His Tomb Was Empty
I come to His tomb on Sunday morn
I've been crying all weekend, my heart is torn
My Lord and Master was crucified
He was nailed to the cross; that's how He died.
I can't comprehend how it could be;
He said He came to set us free.
He delivered me from my life of shame
But never resisted when the soldiers came.
I approach His tomb with the rising sun
Ready to do what needs to be done.
I'll anoint His body with spices and love
And recall His words, "Be gentle as a dove."
As I get closer, there's something wrong--
The tomb is open and Jesus is gone!
I sit on a rock and once more I cry;
They've taken His body, and I don't know why.
"Why are you crying on this boulder?"
I hear a voice and think it's a soldier.
"You've taken His body, please tell me where,
Let me anoint Him and show that I care."
"Mary," He says, and I know that voice!
"Don't be sad; stand up and rejoice!
Did I not tell you and all my friends
That I must die, but that isn't the end?"
I ran to find Peter, Paul, and John,
"I went to His tomb, and the stone was gone!
I saw Jesus, and He's not dead
Our Master is risen, just as He said!"
Hallelujah, He's risen, just like He said!
D H Loewen
Copyright © David Loewen | Year Posted 2018
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