Art And Music | Death | Eternal Life | Heaven | Hope | Poetry | Resurrection

Last Easter when my voice was lifted up
To sing the praises of my Risen Lord,
I had not tasted sorrow’s bitter cup;
The music held for me no minor chord.
This Eastertide my stricken heart sends up
The strains I lift in accents clear and strong,
For I have drained the dregs of sorrow’s cup
And learned the meaning of the Easter song.
I know the sweetness of the minor chord,
The glory of the major full and clear;
I know the power of the Risen Lord —
He lives, and they shall live whom I hold dear./And though I cannot help the tears that flow,
And though my heart is sad as heart can be,
I sing the Easter song because I know
The blessed Easter message is for me. Zula Evelyn Coon Sourcebook of Poetry, Al Bryant, ed., page 269.

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