Hope, Is an Empty Grave

A sound, a rustling sound,
feet trample ground, a man comes bound
A cross He drags, His clothes are rags,
His eyes so sad, He must be bad.

Words flying, Children crying,
women sighing, men dividing,
People gawking, soldiers mocking,
peasants flocking, the sight is shocking.

Questions asked, were you with Him,
the cock crows thrice, a soul grows dim,
The King of Jews or king of fools,
all ripped away by tortures tools

The crowd goes by, dust starts to fly,
I see His eyes, begin to cry,
Off until, they all stand still,
the hammers ring, upon the hill

His body slashed, the bloody brow,
If Ye be God, what say Ye now?
Forgive them Father, their sin be mine,
I show My love by painful dying

Bitter herbs, foul taste wells up,
breathing screaming, the soul gives up,
The soldier jabs Him in the side,
"Oh my," he says, "twas God that died."

Women weeping, cave so dark,
they drag Him in from off the cart,
The skies grow dark, the curtain rips,
the deed is done, our limbs grow limp

Our faith is lost, we all believed,
the Savior died upon that tree,
A boulder seals His place of rest,
He died in vain, He failed the test.

No WAIT!

The women come, they say they’ve seen,
an empty tomb, and thunder scream,
The tomb is empty, the stones rolled ‘way,
WE have new HOPE in His Empty Grave.

He died so that we all might live,
gave the greatest gift that was His to give.
There is no death to those who see,
the Hope of Jesus on that Tree.

~ Glenn Porter
Santa Barbara, California, USA