Eastertime Wasted?

(an Easter Poem) by Gerald Gossage


The tearful women lit their candles

Moving silently in soft trod sandles.

Each had planned what they would find

And went collecting each item in mind.

Water for washing poured into a skin,

The towels, and a garment to wrap Him in.

Two basins, one to wash the blood away

Ointment and scent, to last many a day.

So many things they have to carry;

It would soon be dawn, so they must hurry.

Wrapping up warm they went into the night

Through darkened streets that showed no light.

As dawn broke, City gates opened wide

Pass shadowy soldiers they try to hide.

Down to the Garden, and down to the tomb,

How would they open that great door stone ?

Would anyone help them ? Dare they ask ?

Could they accomplish their compassionate task ?

Then descending the steps: They stood there in shock.

The door was open, they’d moved the rock.

Where was their Jesus ? There’s no one inside.

The grave clothes were there, but nothing beside !

Tears get worse if you think He’s not risen

So this Easter capture a quite new vision.

Don’t work and live as if He was dead

There’s a glorious future with Him ahead.

He made you, He loves you, get to know Him as friend

And He will be with you right up to the end.


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