LIVING HOPE

LIVING HOPE

Beneath the crown of glory

Eternal God, not made;

The Word, the Life, the Light of men

His rights aside He laid

The throne room filled with silence

As He lay His glory down

First His royal robes

And then His kingly crown

No kingly crown upon his head

As God made flesh lay crying

In splintered manger for a bed

Lay the baby sent for dying

Rejected by the sons of men

Crucify Him! Came crowds roar

Pointed shards of scourging whip

Sink deep into His flesh they tore

Upon His wounded body

A purple robe they place,

Soldiers bow in mockery

As they spit upon His face

Beneath a crown of twisted thorn

Down dirt caked face runs blood of grace

They lift the robe from open sores;

rip clumps of beard from His face

A crown of thorns upon His head

As God made flesh lay crying

On splintered cross for a bed

The Son of God hung dying

Beneath a crown of twisted thorn

The Savior breathed His last

On Himself our sin He bore

ALL SIN – future, present, past.

On the third day, they walk to the tomb

Two women with hearts heavy and empty of hope

Searing grief crushing their every breath

What now? How would they cope?

Hope fell dark and lifeless

It lay dead inside a tomb

Behind a heavy door of stone

Hope was lost in death’s shadowed gloom.

When they arrived at the tomb

They found the stone rolled away

Why look for the living among the dead? He is risen!

They heard the angel say.

They peered inside the empty tomb

Saw the grave cloths folded neatly.

He’s risen. He’s risen! He’s risen!

The angel’s words echoed sweetly.

Today as I sat in the light of dawn,

Remembering when my hope was lost

It lay dead behind a door of stone

Amidst waves of destruction tossed

Jesus rolled the stone away

And with a mighty shout

Forgave my sin, called my name

With His nail-pierced hand led me out

Out of the darkness

Into His light

Out of the shadows

Out of sins night

My friend, is that where you are

Wrapped in grave cloths tight

Behind a door of stone

In a tomb of hopeless night

No longer you need worry

Or wonder how you’ll cope

For beneath the crown of glory

Stands Jesus, our Living Hope!

An Original Conversations at the Well Poem

By Diana Morgan, Easter 2013