On the day our eyes open to the prism of the sun
On that day, Winter solitude would be gone
The avalanche of differences melts into nothingness
Through the same breath,through the same soul
We would live again as one ,no matter who we are
No matter the colour of our skin,Gay or straight
rich or poor,innocent or once found guilty.
No matter if We are lawyers,prisoners,doctors or pheasants
No matter our political believes ,nor our different religions
A catholic,a muslim,a buddhist , a hinduist,or a jew .
On that day,we would all wear identical dresses
We would all be the significant other ,because He has died,
and He has died for all. Jesus died for Peter,John and Judah
for Lazarus and Maria Magdalene, Jesus died for me ,
He has died for you ,for him ,for her,and even for them.
He gave up till the last drop of blood and painful cry
for each and every name engraved upon our Father's palm.
He was born to die,but its not his death that we celebrate ,
We celebrate His life ,because we believe in life
We celebrate His forgivness ,because We experienced
the beauty of forgivness ,the happiness ,the return of blissful joy.
and , We celebrate the ever present love
Because it is the gift of love that He bestowed on us
Jesus was born to die , but He was born to rise
Upon death He has risen , through His death We survived
Because of Him , in the darkness ,in the labyrinth of our night
There will always,always be the little flicker of a candle
that fills our hearts with hope ,and warming light.
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015
I followed you from Galilee
To that sad day on Calvary
Of love You spoke
New hope You woke
Some said I was a prostitute
In me You saw no ill repute
My heart now cries
I watch You die
Sharp spikes that pierce Your hands draw blood
And through my heart emotions flood
A Son so blessed
Is laid to rest
Three days I stayed outside Your tomb
Never to see You I presumed
And though I mourned
I genuflect and watch You rise
To join Your Father in the skies
This blessed day
Showed us “The Way”
The sacrifice You made for man
Celebrated in many lands
Give thanks and pray
Written in the first-person view of Mary Magdalene, one of Christ’s best known
disciples. According to modern religious scholars, the Gospels of Mark and John say
she was the first person to see Jesus after he rose from the dead.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
in the sun
The skin became the bark of a tree
the soul turning to brittle scars
for uncaring worlds to see.
is a pile of
old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
in the sun
the mind has smoothed over
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place
where watercolors swirled all day,
the heart worms kept at bay.
I'll stay hidden within the weeds,
till the jewels of memories soothe
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
...stayed in the sun
Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013
Tears of joy streak down
My dust covered face
As I just wandered by and witnessed
The utmost glorious grace
Just three days ago
I watched them crucify
The son of God himself
The man called Jesus Christ
They poked him with their spears
Wet his tongue with a vinegar sponge
Nailed him to a tree
And taunted “you’re not God’s son.”
He hung there ‘til he died
From his side water did drop
They buried him in a tomb
Where today I had to stop
Past three days the door was covered
A large stone placed there that day
But, today as I walked by
An angel rolled it away
He had kept his promise
Only 3 days would he lay dead
To forgive us all our sins
And, I believed in what he said
He glided out of the tomb
As if floating in the air
“Do not be afraid” he said,
With gentle love, and care
He represents new life
And all the wounds he can heal
Is Easter day your resurrection?
Can Jesus Christ be your shield?
I weep to think of the pain
He endured for you and me
So he could take away our sins
And one day, set us free!
By: Miranda Lambert
For: Gwendolyn Rixs’ contest: What easter means to me
Copyright © Wandering Butterfly | Year Posted 2011
A is for Annie Apple Blossom she buds in the Spring.
B is Betty Baby Breath she's such a dainty thing.
C is for Miss Candy Tuft pink-cheeked with hair of gold.
D is Debbie Dandelion who never does what she's told!
E is for Easter Lily she's as white as snow.
F is Francie Fairy Bells who ring-a-lings where she goes.
G is for Ginny Gardenia perfumed oh so sweet.
H is Holly Hocks a Tomboy, she has two left feet!
I is for Inca Lily dressed in colors light.
J is Joanie Jump-Ups, Johnny's little sister bright.
K is for Katie Kangaroo Paw her nails are painted red.
L is Lila Lady Slipper who stays too long a bed.
M is for Merry Morning Glory dressed in pale blue.
N is Nancy Narcissus who trumpets ""toodeloo!"
O is for Olivia the Ox-Eyed Daisy dolly.
P is Patty Petunia, her pancakes are a folly.
Q is for Queenie Anns Lace her dresses all have ruffles.
R is Ruby Rose-a-lee who almost always shuffles.
S is for Sandy Snap Dragon tall and thin. petite.
T is Tallulah Tulip her clothes are so off beat!
U is for Uma Umbrella Flower, sweet and sunny.
V is Vicky Violet she plays with Easter bunnies.
W is for Wendy Water Lily she'd rather swim than dance.
X is Xana Xmas Tree in Winter she's entrancing.
Y is for Yani Yarrow, a girl so bonny fair
Z is Zelda Zinnia, she pinning Yani's hair.
All our girls are fine and strong, so beautiful and brave
Not a single one of them would think to misbehave!
Bio: Wise woman.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2013
The Happy Field and Spring Shower
Hand in hand, we fluttered like two butterflies
among the fragrant flowers of the field
and meandered, singing songs, along a stream.
No agendas to keep to; no schedules to curtail
the pure pleasure that we took
in consuming every lovely hour of our Saturday.
With our picnic lunch, we sat down on a blanket.
Later we lay looking up at clouds.
Transported to the wonderland of our imagination,
we named them fluffy mountain ranges,
bunnies, sheep, and Easter lily petals
until they morphed into lopsided bearded faces,
huge white polar bears and cotton-breathing dragons.
Unexpectedly, the clouds grew dark, and suddenly,
we saw and felt large raindrops splatter on our skin.
We fled our happy field, arriving home - two children,
wet and laughing, just as the spring shower let up.
How were we to know in the springtime of our lives
that the field and the rain from which we fled
I’d one day write about as metaphors for youth.
Written for the Spring Showers contest 3/30/13
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
The Way of The Cross
Our Jesus is condemned to die
Oh, Savior, now from Earth you part.
You do not sigh, nor do you weep,
Though our sins have pierced your heart.
Dear Jesus bears the Holy Cross,
Our Savior of all humankind,
For us, you start this journey now,
Still endless love for us you find.
Our Jesus falls beneath the Cross;
So dreadful now to bear this pain.
Dear Jesus, when we fall in sin,
Please help us rise up once again.
Our Savior meets his Mother dear,
Mary, anguished and depressed,
Please help us face our sorrows too…
Live up to all our trying tests.
A man named Simon of Cyrene
Appears to help our Savior’s plight
To lift the weight of his great Cross…
Lord, burden us to spread your light.
Veronica wipes our Savior’s face.
Look now! His imprint there to stay!
Please on our souls your imprint make
And help us keep it there, we pray.
Dear Jesus falls down on the path,
Again now for the second time.
But soon he rises to go on,
Lord, help us up to stay in line.
Our Jesus meets some women now,
They kneel down to mourn and weep.
“Weep not for me,” He says to them,
“But for your children, the lost sheep.”
Our Jesus falls again, this time
His journey's nearly at an end.
Dear Jesus, when we fall in sin,
Please grant us wisdom to amend.
Our Lord now stripped of all his clothes—
This torture is so sad and cruel.
Please, Jesus, strip our souls of sin,
Our hearts and souls you always rule.
Our Jesus now nailed to His Cross—
Your death, dear Lord, is very near.
Sweet Savior nail our souls to you,
And grant us grace to have no fear.
Oh, the dreaded Crucifixion!
Our Jesus now so humbly dies,
While all the sins and sins to come…
Are placed before his tear-filled eyes.
Our Lord is gently taken down,
In his dear Mother’s arms is placed,
Oh Mary, Mother of our God,
Help ease our sorrows to be faced.
Now, Jesus placed within his tomb,
To rise again on Easter Day—
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
Oh, great day of Resurrection!
From tomb he rises up to sky,
With all God’s angels by his side
He joins his Father up on high.
Oh, great day of Resurrection!
He rose again on Easter Day!
Redeemer of all humankind,
With us forever you will stay!
Sandra M. Haight
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Contest: Death and Resurrection of Christ
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
Three crosses stood still that faithful day
As the skies sadly wept a guilted grey
On the highest hill they would be seen
By Roman ruled eyes that did demean
The middle cross covered in rustic red
Where the calamitous Christ’s blood sacrificed shed
The lachrymal lamb dies for our shameless sins
As the whispering winds wind and the sky dims
The christened cross made thus Divine
For the Christ awaits Ascension to His Holy shrine
The weathered wood of dogmatic Destiny
Dexterously dismantled while bereaving blessedly
The Christ carefully put in a timeless tomb
With His Loving Light creates a new womb.
A Happy Easter
Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2016
now stuffed with sweet eggs,
her kids sit, well-groomed, in church -
Not a bad hare day!
For Skat's EASY Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
the pearls from your eyes
are far more precious to me
than any treasure
your big sacrifice
nothing more to compare with
you’re my great hero
I owe you my life
mom, my heart melts when you cry
your tears: pearls of love
that’s the greatness of your love
in you, I feel God
mom, I’m so sorry
sometimes, I make you lonely
but you’re dear to me
you bear all the pains
pearls of great love on your cheeks
every drop, I’ll kiss
for I do believe
you want only the best for me
all your pray’rs and wish
thank you so much mom
those pearls of great mother’s love
be kept in my heart
you’re my only mom
replaceable by no one
comfort and best friend
my ardent prayers
may you live long in this world
may God gives you strength
March 24, 2013
This poem was conceived both from the “Pearl” theme and one of my possible adorable picture themes of my latest contest, “Mother’s Love”- merged into one.
It is also composed with the inspiration of all mothers in this world. You’re indeed the greatest heroes/heroines! I am so proud of you! I lovingly dedicate this poem to you dear mothers and friends! Big hugs to all of you! Of course, I include especially my loving/dearest mom who’s my greatest inspiration, refuge and best friend.
This poem can also bring to us a message for this Easter Season as we remember Mother Mary who’d suffered much seeing her loving son Jesus Christ’s great sufferings on the cross at Mt. Calvary- a mother’s great love to her child indeed!
HAPPY EASTER SEASON TO ALL!
Contest: Any Poem Goes
Sponsor: My Greatest Poet and sis PD
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013
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.
Just then I saw a band of men
approaching down the narrow road;
there should be one among that crowd
aho 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 dines 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 will wash His feet with tears of love
and with my hair wipe the sand away.
Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
All the things we are on earth-
And all the things we're not.
All the times we've hurt our Lord,
By word and deed and thought.
All the days we've made Him sad,
Through hateful acts of spite.
We need step back a pace or two
And make the bad things right.
For heaven's not that far away-
Could be . . just round the bend.
And none of us can ever know
The moment of our end.
Be grateful for the blessings
He's bestowed on you this while.
Offer thanks by honoring Him,
In ways that make Him smile.
Ask for His forgiveness
For the times you hurt Him so.
Accept the blood He shed for you
Before your time to go.
Our days are but a platform,
Where we stage the life to come.
Thus all the joys of heaven
Are not there for everyone.
So bid the Lord come to your door
And then invite Him in.
Ask His grace as you confess
To all your earthly sins.
He will know what's in your heart
And if you are sincere . .
You'll have your place in Heaven
And dispel death’s dread and fear.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015
At the joyful sunrise service on Easter morn
On the sands of Daytona Beach no lines are drawn
Worshipers from each Christian denomination
Gather in unison as one congregation
Protestants, Mormons and Catholics in pre-dawn haze
Chorus of voices offering hymns of great praise
As the sun rises here, just as God’s son rose then
For a moment in time, many faiths are brethren
When the first rays of light streak across the ocean
‘Neath glowing pink light, we celebrate Christ risen
Surely God smiles down as all believers embrace,
Celebrate the Resurrection, bask in His grace
Good will is conveyed as heartfelt pledges are made
That the love displayed on Easter will never fade
All are soulidified and take this vow seriously
Knowing Christ’s sacrifice heals all humanity
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
Since Noah and the great flood
swords swiftly replaced the rod.
And Man soaked altars in blood
sacrificing life unto God.
then vanished with little trace.
Men of peace were called coward
and women were kept in place.
Compromise was hard to find,
no hope for a peaceful path.
For God warred with Mankind,
smiting pagans with His wrath.
Jesus preached God's not that way,
removing hate from His faith.
And He taught us how to pray,
purging souls of unclean wraith.
Challenging how people thought,
some demand blood for His love.
Yet His crucifixion bought
forgiveness through God above.
Mourned and laid in a cave,
for three days He suffered hell.
Then He arose from His grave
and bid apostles to tell.
Through His love salvation starts,
and Mankind’s fate looks less grim.
For now God lives in our hearts
and blood’s not offered to Him.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
The morning sun peeks in my window
as I feel a tug at my feet
how could I not smile
at that little sheepish grin
Easter morn has arrived
He is risen
and so shall I
Pitter-patter across the worn pine floor
giggles, shrieks and laughter fill my home
searching for the hidden coloured eggs
my joyous children roam.
Such a special day.
Dressed in our new spring best
we show our love for Him
celebrating with close friends and family
indulging in delectable candies and cakes
a family game of whiffle ball,
pushing my little one on the swings
enjoying each others company
basking in the freshness of the great outdoors
The skies begin to darken
the stars start to shine
our day has come to an end.
After all the hugs are given
the I love you's spoken
kisses blown, good byes said
I climb up high into my cold brass bed
and reflect upon this glorious day
again it's just me and You
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015
jesus died and jerusalem went black
the wind howled and the sky thundered loudly
people ran in fear as the earth moaned
but the beloved stayed
jesus was buried in the early evening
those who believed in him carried his limp body
and the mary's and others followed weeping
they washed and anointed him with myrrh and aloe
wrapping him gently in a linen cloth with no words spoken
in sadness they rolled a huge stone over the entrance
leaving him in silence within his tomb
it was in the hush of dawn on the third day the mary's returned
they found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty
the soldiers who had been guarding the tomb had fled in fear
an angel in brilliant light appeared
telling them that christ had risen from the dead
frightened and in shock they ran to tell the apostles
after his rising, jesus appeared to many
he could eat, walk and talk to those he visited
showing them the holes in his hands, side and feet
and allowing them to touch him
for forty days he remained and on the fortieth day he rose
he was carried up into heaven
and we the followers celebrate his death at Easter
and his rising on Easter sunday . . . defeating death
April 1, 2014
Ekphrasis/the meaning of Easter
Copyright Protected, ID 658844
Pascal Premier Contest
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
"Happy Easter To You!", is the greeting I hear them shout!
Alas, I just lamely roost here, brood, ponder and pout!
I've worked for weeks making eggs and I'm all tuckered out!
All this hoopla about rabbits, I can really do without!
Me, my mom, aunts, nieces and innumerable distant cousins,
Have been producing eggs by the gross and by the dozens.
Every Easter 'tis those wily bunnies earning the gratitude,
Leaving me and my kin with a very fractious attitude!
Moms send their kids to rob the eggs from 'neath our breast,
Telling them the rabbits made them - this I vehemently protest!
I'm thinking of a sitdown strike come Lent next year,
To frustrate those crafty varmints with a message loud and clear!
The kids make appalling designs on the beauties we produce,
And even tint our chicks in lurid hues, adding to the abuse!
The rabbits get all the glory and stir up all this commotion!
They don't lay eggs! I'll disabuse folks of that silly notion!
If I sound somewhat frustrated, well I reckon I am,
As those cunning scoundrels perpetuate their mythical scam!
Us chickens will just have to press on with our usual grace.
The truth will out, then we'll "cluckle" at the egg on their face!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 3 in A Chicken Poem In Memory of Armano Aurocano Rock Star
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
In quietude of early dawn
she stood on Easter Day,
where rested now her dearest son
too early passed away.
As light’s first rays peeled shadows from
the grave’s cold marbled stone,
she leaned and whispered into wind
her words of sorrow sown.
“I’ll never see his face again!”
she cried to wind and God.
“Why you, my son?” With stifled sob
she fell to grassy sod.
And then resplendent in the east,
as if to give reply,
the sunrise broke and seemed to loose
the truth from crimson sky.
Though blind she’d been, she now could see.
As earth was bathed in red,
it dawned on her that Easter morn
how Christ for all had bled.
Our worldly time is very short;
immortal all shall be.
The Comforter assured her this;
her son again she’d see.
By Andrea Dietrich
For the "Easter Inspirations" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
“Le lacrime del Cuore”
As the tears faithfully fall on cedar wood
A chaotic still thru sacerdotal sky where it stood
And blood rapidly runs down on cypress veins
Where the palpitating pine sadly shows its pains
The birds of prey perched perfectly passive
As the heart hinders to their words impassive
Nazarene nails reveal their tenacious teeth
And the sands of sorrow bellow underneath
A bludgeoned body from east to west
As the wounded wood is gently blessed
The heavens hibernate with clouds of grey
To meaningfully mourn this degenerative day
The cryptical cross now stands surreal
For a King is crowned with thorns that seal.
By Anthony Slausen
Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2016
A beach captivating deprived eyes,
Fascination, grandiose haven in July,
Keeping lovely mountains nearby,
Of Pacific, quixotic, refulgent sunset/sunrise.
Tarry! Unwind! Vast waves eXtrudes Yuletide-like Zephyr.
Written: Aug. 16, 2012
This is a beautiful beach in Tamurong, Candon, I.S. It is located near my place or compound just a walking distance from my house. Its name was officially given by the people living in that area who are mostly relatives. The word "namagyan" means "relatives." Many visitors are going to this place and enjoy the nature, their moments and most especially the whole day of Sabado De Gloria (Black Saturday) and ecumenical services are held on this beautiful beach on the dawn/sunrise of Easter Sunday! It's a very fantastic place to visit! Come and see!
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2012
So sad..Hopping in and Out of one' s life....
It's Peter Rabbit for Pete's" sake...
He comes by each and every year...
For this they say we should fear ?
Just to share a Spring holiday ?...
He's a horrid creature, so they say...
He has big ears and a cotton tail...
And sometimes he even carries a pail..
Full of candy, and colorful decorated eggs...
This day is between Valentine hearts , and Green Beer kegs....
He's rarely ever seen...
And has never ever been mean...
So why are all these American States...
Having all these holiday debates ?..
I await my basket filled with a chocolate kiss..
I only hope his picture does not end up on...
The Post Office " 10 most wanted list "...
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014
The Easter Prayer of Thanks
"2 There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3 His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow." Matt 28:2-3 NIV
God, thank you for the gift of Easter;
The sacrifice of your Son so treasured.
To save our souls through your grace and mercy,
That by heaven alone can be measured.
Thank you for giving us hope;
The hope of life after the grave.
Winter dies and Spring comes to life—
The resurrection of the saved!
Your hand rules the universe
With great glory and power.
We give thanks for your love for us,
And for every beautiful opening flower.
We thank you for the birds
That sing your praises every morn,
And for the lofty mountains
That with Winter's snow you adorn.
Thank you for friends and family
And the blessings that they bring,
At this very special time—
Christ's resurrection and the grandeur of Spring!
Thank you for salvation
Made possible by your love.
Thank you that we have the hope of heaven—
Easter's promise from above.
May we all meet our Redeemer,
As you come for us in the air,
Because of Easter's hope of eternity,
and the privilege of prayer!
Copyright © 2012 Maureen LeFanue
Copyright © MAUREEN LEFANUE | Year Posted 2012
How the morn wakens with life,
to tether a sleepy soul
with simple delights;
The manna lights upon the land,
the swell of the sun ballooning
like some prim-adonna,
A starling to lead teasing to treetops
(a little black speck)
swaying in soft wind....
Tickling the trees with its breeze
and tender tune;
so soon hushed,
the houses blush below ----
to parks the children go,
cyclists for cars....
The far traffic din slim with Sunday;
this Easter with the peace of Christ,
his everlasting smile,
so lovely upon the land
(A certain Sunday morn)
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2014
Grace, God’s pleasure,
is His treasure,
in bold measure
Christ bore the dross
of worldly loss
upon His cross.
He took our place.
Accused of sham
the great I Am
our paschal Lamb
in love’s embrace.
When people grope
He is our hope,
the means to cope,
His body raised.
a rhupunt written 5 Dec 2014
A rhupunt (RHEE– PINT) is a Welch form consisting of three, four or more lines of four syllables with a rhyming scheme. It will be seen that the last lines of each stanza rhyme and the other lines rhyme with each other within the stanza. For example, in a three-line stanza the pattern would be a, a, B. / c, c, B. / d, d, B. Four-line stanzas would rhyme a, a, a, B. / c, c, c, B. / d, d, d, B. and so on. . .
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2014
What if our Easter Sunday was Holy Spirit led?
What if in place of colored eggs, lost souls were sought instead?
Instead of hurried egg hunts, we’d hurry to Christ’s grave
Rejoice to find it empty, and shout within the cave
What if crimson spotted robes replaced our light pastels?
And thorns were thought more beautiful than eggs with painted shells?
We’d tie our aprons at our waists and wash each other’s feet
A sponge of vinegar we’d taste, instead of chocolate treats
What if the fluffy bunnies moved over for the Lamb?
And recognized the Prince of Peace, the King, the great I Am?
Instead of Easter baskets, our hearts would overflow
With kindness and concern for those we do and do not know
A prize egg fat with silver coins would lose its mass appeal
For Jesus is the Risen Christ, and all before Him kneel
Father, Teacher, Son of Man, Redeemer, Risen Lord
Master, Savior, Son of God, Christ will not be ignored!
So as we dye our hard boiled eggs, and tie our pretty bows
Let us remember Jesus Christ, from whom all blessings flow
Ours is life washed free from sin, for Jesus paid the price
He died to rise on Easter morn, our living sacrifice
Copyright © Anna Kittrell | Year Posted 2009