Of heaven’s inverted bowl. Upon a hill
There stands a bloodied cross. The night-air’s chill
Embraces all; and Darkness bids Death, “Come!”
While shadows fill the earth with black and grey
The moon has reached her zenith and descends;
A slivered orb whose stolen glory ends
As night withdraws before the coming day.
God’s “greater light” has risen from restless sleep;
And Death and Darkness fall beneath the cross
That marks their grave, their final resting place.
'Tis Life that rises with the sun! As deep
Cries out to deep a tomb reveals its loss.
The Son has risen indeed! God’s gift of grace!