He is risen,
stone rolled away from tomb
He is risen,
death no had longer it's rule
He is risen,
above it all, above the doom

The Lord Jesus is risen.

Would that a recollection could expire;
Not in the fuzzled hedgerows of old age,
But here amidst the furrows of a sage
And active mind -- A rustle of attire;
A scent, familiar, quickening desire;
A voice as soft as silence on a stage --
Unbundled straws like kindling to the page
That sets this enigmatic heart afire --
Would that I could entreat vacuity
To bar a thought, to keep it squarely shuttered,
Preventing it from creeping back inside --
The vacant plots might cleanse my memory,
Might numb an ache and leave a mind uncluttered --
The healing of a vast unfeeling void.

The King and the prince went up to the city,
the King to make peace, the prince to get tricky,
one lived to love and one loved to hate,
one gave his life and one took the bait.

The King and the prince went up to the city,
one stood condemned, the other stood guilty,
one spoke the truth, the other just lies
one knew the plan, one got a surprise.

The King and the prince went up to the city,
one filled with tears, one empty of pity.
The prince had his Friday, ‘thought the war had been won.
The King rose on Sunday, his reign just begun.

He makes the sun to rise and shine;
     His breath inspires the wind;
He fattens the fruit, ferments the wine;
     And makes the grape thin-skinned.

Because of Him, raindrops fall
     And early birds arise.
God makes the deaf to hear His call,
     And makes the foolish wise.

Thanks be to God,
For every good and perfect gift
Comes down from the Father of lights
Who causes us in Christ
The world to overcome
And to joyfully sing.  

I am a man flawed,
A Christian the Devil will sift
For a season.  But the serpent bites
His own tongue, in time; and I, imparadised,
Will ask him when he's dumb,
Death, where is thy sting?