The Son at Easter

The weeping of His disciples and of Mary
Ended the first Easter day
The world reborn; the tomb is empty
The sting of sin is sponged away

The accolades of Palm Sunday
Darkened with Friday's night
A Man receives our agony;
A stone hides His shell from sight

The sun that shines on His face
Recalls not Good Friday's tears
In the purity of sacrifice
He draws His children near

In the year of our Lord, this Easter pray
A sweet remembrance of this day