The women came with oils sweet,
The came with steady, mourning feet,
They reached the tomb, and stop and quake,
At seismic strength rocks rend and brake.

The Roman soldiers joked and laughed,
Until the crack – like thunder clashed.
Their weapons fall, light blinds their eyes,
They crash to ground as if they die.

Two angles sped, from heaven sent,
A rich man’s tomb their object bent;
A stone to move, a cohort smite,
And to women to give a message bright,

Then in the path the savior stood,
To see the message understood,
To see the women grasp his feet,
And desperately his grace entreat.

The women run their fear is gone,
They – joyous – hurry, scurry home.
The soldiers stand, their knees like jelly,
Celestial sights knotted their belly,

The women burst into the upper-room,
And bid the disciples come, yea, come!
Good news they spread, “The Christ is risen!”
“His word is true,” Our sins forgiven!

The soldiers tell their guilty lie,
Each cautious, fearful, lest he die.
The priest are also sore perplexed,
They bought this lie, this false pretext.

And where was Jesus? Wonder you,
On to Emmaus with other two?
No doubt he cured the weaknesses,
Of His five hundred witnesses.


A Grave Carol

We bless the cross and resurrection,
by which we all were saved
And yet in this we’re apt to miss,
the power of the grave.
Was there any meaning then,
In that cold rock they lay him in?

His corpse they gave to Joseph,
who begged them with his sighs,
A rich man who would surely come,
in through the needle’s eye.

And with him Nicodemus, old,
helped put him in the tomb.
Old enters now a second time,
into, unearthly, womb.

And after them came Zeb’dee’s wife,
tears-stains on her palm,
Exalting not herself or sons,
she came there to embalm.

Then Mary Magdalene came weeping,
not from His body far.
Her love for him already poured,
from alabaster jar.

Then came the other Mary, too
who’d known Him from the first,
Now to add the pains of death,
unto the pains of birth.

But after they had left there came –
haughty, cruel, and proud –
The Roman Guard with seal and spear,
laughing, leering loud.

Then with the morning light there came,
a guard from other realms.
They sallied with a mighty shout,
with bright and blazing helms.

The tomb fulfilled the prophesy,
the Guard proved he was dead.
Embalmed, God let him lay three days,
outside of mortals’ beds.
That grave-side truth held, though t’was small
Immortals, Mourners, Scoffers, All

I Saw Him Bloodied, Twice

I enter the grimy cave,
The stench assails my nose,
I lean upon my stave,
And move into the glow,
Held by the care-worn man,
O’er that holy scene,
The maid, the babe, the feed-stand
Stood in the straw unclean.
Blood mixed and saturated,
With lambs’-filth in the straw,
Held this Divine incarnated.
Here lay Love in raw.

His mother lay like steel,
A smile bright, but pale,
We there before him kneel,
His father – strong and hale –
His father on this earth,
Low’rs his light to peer,
At this, the child’s birth,
And sheds a grateful tear.
We knew why He was there,
We know just who he was.
The angels in the air,
Had told it all to us.

Yet hidden in the back,
The sheep eat straw, oblivious.
Poor hosts with little tact,
Ignore this baby glorious.
Yet to His sheep would He,
Give His new life to feed.
Who were those sheep, were we?
Owned by the Bread that bleeds?
I saw Him bloodied, twice,
Last on a tree so rough.
This Bread of Life, the Christ,
Served in a feeding-trough.