From Good Friday’s gruesome darkness
To the rise of Easter Morn
Lies a path beyond our coyness,
Path that holds the newly born.
In between us and this brightness
Lies our inner Hades night
Which when faced with deep awareness
Can transform our mind with light.
The illusions which deform life
Centre round our wealth and power
When we think they are the midwife
Who can birth the Spirit’s flower.
Every Easter strips illusions,
Like a loin cloth from a cross,
By exposing self deceptions
Till our gain is seen as loss.
In our Easter time of wonder,
Freed from chains of time and space,
May God’s love, above and under,
Be our entry point to grace.
Alternative tune: STUTTGART
Text and Music © William Livingstone Wallace.
Click here to see the score: Wallace.From Good Friday’s Gruesome Darkness
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