Even the sun

Even the sun itself will bow

for no power on earth, or hell below

will stand in the presence of The Christ.

Victorious on the those sticks of wood

His blood was shed

and yet remains

ever a reminder of His great love.

But don't look for Him there.

The cross is empty, the tomb vacant.

All He claimed to be, proven.

Risen. Alive. Glorified.

When troubles come

and come they will

look to the empty cross.

You can hear me recite this poem below:

in the stillness with Sandy

in the secret place with Cheryl

 

and singing in the Sunday choir with Deidra