God’s love bursts into bloom
deep in the dark’s lament,
and fills a startled tomb
with lively, gracious scent;
the stone gives way, death’s head is bruised
and dawn reveals a grave unused.
Three loyal women bring
spice to anoint their friend,
but hear a Glory sing
Come see, no corpse to tend!
What fearful joy! their wild sweet cry
of hope salutes the sunrise sky.
Christ kicks down hell’s grim door
and lets us prisoners out —
the sick, the blind, the poor,
we hear the paschal shout:
Because I live, you all shall be
God’s guests at heaven’s high feast with me!
Ian Sowton 1985