They gathered ‘round the market square, in clusters great and small.
In vain they tried their very best to comprehend it all.
Some pointed back to Calvary’s hill, some lingered near the tomb,
While others cried to God above to lift this cloud of gloom.
The hours went by, some went on home, no answers for their grief.
Some felt deceived, some felt betrayed and drowned in unbelief.
That Saturday was worst of all, for they were sure He’d died.
Their friends had stopped their mocking now; they’d proved that Jesus lied.
By Sunday morning all had changed and shouting filled the air,
“Jesus arose just as He said, And He’s no longer there!”
The women ran from house to house and banged upon each door.
“He is not dead! Our Savior lives! Just like He was before!”
They gathered in the market square and sang and danced and prayed.
They peered into the open tomb where Jesus once was laid.
To Thomas, Jesus showed His hands to help his unbelief.
Five hundred hovered near Him as He took away their grief.
The empty tomb, the risen Lord, the Cornerstone He laid;
Upon those words our faith shall rest, for us the price He paid.
All praise belongs to Jesus now and evermore ‘twill be,
For He arose! He conquered death, for me eternally!
Mariane, your poems are always great, but this one is especially grand! You not only pay attention to the rhythm and the rhyme, but in so doing, you don't lose the message... This is not just an Easter poem, as I suppose you posted it that long ago, it is a poem for all-times. I couldn't get to commenting on your poem until just now. I think you know why...Hart's surgery. Today is the longest time I have spent at the computer for well over a month. God bless you.