The Resurrection

The grave lies empty, no victory
Except for a rumpled shroud
There was no glory to behold
Nor trophy to be proud

For He who was laid to rest
Has risen from the dead
The grave that could bear as witness
Now claims the emptiness instead

For the day was numbered three
And the blood that had not yet dried
Was all that remained in the darkened tomb
Of the man they had crucified

Crucifixion was his destiny
A price he had to pay
Resurrection was his promise
That lives in all of us today.

by Don Richards

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