And lights each tip of grass
The blooming flowers touched with dew
Shine like beads of glass
The garden silent, still, waiting.
The whisper of the wind
Seems to speak of hope and life
Brighter then it's been.
Quietly a woman weeps
For a friend she's lost.
Illuminated by the morning sun
Toward the tomb she walks.
She approaches the memorial
But to her great despair
The tomb is wholly empty
But for linen laying there.
Somebody approaches,
The woman asks him where
They have laid her Lord
Her friend who wasn't there.
The man looks toward the woman
With love and sympathy
Quietly he whispers
He says to her, "Mary."
Such power in a word
Such meaning in one name
"Master!" She replies
For it is He, the same.
She reaches out her hand
"Touch me not," he says,
"I have yet to go unto
My Father in Heaven."
Such radiance in a smile
Such love in just one glance.
The victory o'er the grave was won
Eternity advanced.
Mary, filled with newfound grace
Thanks him with her eyes.
She has witnessed joyfully
The hope of the Son rise.
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