The cross stands, empty, in the highlights of dawn,
A faint shadow falls upon the bloody ground,
A crude crown lay abandon, the marks of His body still in
the dust.
In the dark and silent cave the
Son rises, sits, still swaddled.
He removes the rags of death and smiles.
Standing triumphant
Commands the stone to move
And walks into the bright morning.
This is why He came, why He died;
To conquer death,
Remove the gardens curse,
Leading the way to the tree of Life.
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