Sunday's Comin'

Friday came, they crucified our Master on the cross, How could He have felt such peace - He knew we'd feel such loss. What we didn't know back then: the sweet voice of the Spirit Would soon be calling out to us, and we just couldn't hear it: Friday's here, but Sunday's comin' Friday's here, but Sunday's comin' The Lord has died but He'll be risin' He'll be risin' cause Sunday's comin' soon! Saturday we were hiding away, hunted like a band of thieves, All we'd hoped for had been taken, and at times we felt deceived, Even though the Lord had promised us in three days He would rise, We were so confused and broken, and were fearing for our lives. If we had listened to His voice We'd have sung with great rejoicing... Saturday, but Sunday's comin' Lonely day, but Sunday's comin' The Lord has died, but He'll be risin' He'll be risin' cause Sunday's comin' soon! Sunday morning, we were awakened by the sound of Mary's cries, "They've taken our dear Lord away - we don't know where He lies!" John and I went racing off to see who were the cursed thieves, We saw the grave clothes and recalled, "Blessed is the one who believes" The Lord had said that He'll be comin' The days are long, but He'll be comin' He was dead but He is risen, Indeed He's risen, 'cause Sunday came at last!