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A crime it was, they all have said,
The body's gone, we're sure he's dead.
In spite of guards placed all around,
Grave robbers took him from the ground.
His friends have come to visit him,
His open grave invited them
To look within and see it bare,
Nothing of him was left there.
In vain they searched for those who saw,
They even questioned men of law,
And when at last the answer came,
'Twas one of everlasting fame.
He is not here, as you can see,
He's risen now, climbed from the tree,
Go quickly now and tell his friends,
Even at the tomb, nothing ends.
And through his rising we can say,
That death is like the dawning day,
A brand new life for us to start,
And those who heed his words are smart.
Though no one saw the actual deed,
And just an empty tomb to heed,
No witnesses to back him up,
Yet at his table we do sup.
And from that table we draw grace,
As to the East we turn and face,
The rising Son does call us near,
And from us takes away all fear.
© 1999, Deacon Ed Faulk
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