The women Jesus knew, forlorn,
Went to His tomb on Sunday morn.
The earth had moved, the rock rolled back,
His body gone, the tomb was black
Where is our Lord? the women cried,
We laid Him here after He died.
And then they saw upon the stone,
An angel, sitting there alone.
He is not here, the angel said,
For He is risen from the dead.
Remember not his prophecy,
That He would go to Galilee?
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Now go and his disciples tell,
He lives again, and all is well.
And so they ran with fear and joy,
His pledge fulfilled, death to destroy.
Rejoicing, yet a doubt they feared,
When suddenly our Lord appeared.
Fear not, He said, for I am He,
Who suffered in Gethsemane.
I conquered death, atoned thy sin,
That you may live with God again.
They touched his hands and held his feet,
And washed his wounds with tears so sweet.
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He dried their tears, sent them away,
To spread the news, He lives today.
While some believed, his foes denied,
You stole his body, skeptics cried.
Apostles, all eleven men,
In Galilee met Him again.
The Gospel truth, no greater thing,
Our Savior lives, so let us sing.
He is not here, for he is ris'n,
And freed us from eternal pris'n.
Repent, my Child, forsake your sin,
He died for thee but lives again.
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