Fanfare for Easter

Come thunderers of God; let's preach a message plain.
By rot is myrrh undone;
By worm is aloes spoiled.
But death's unclean corruptive fingers must refrain
To touch the Holy One,
Whom very hell must yield.

Come trumpeters of God; let's raise a new-made song.
The tomb is black and deep,
With dead uncrowded still.
But hangs no fatal curse on Him who did no wrong.
He is not held by sleep
Who fills the world and all.

spring 1989

Fanfare for Easter Come thunderers of God; let's preach a message plain. By rot is myrrh undone; By worm is aloes spoiled. But death's unclean corruptive fingers must refrain To touch the Holy One, Whom very hell must yield. Come trumpeters of God; let's raise a new-made song. The tomb is black and deep, With dead uncrowded still. But hangs no fatal curse on Him who did no wrong. He is not held by sleep Who fills the world and all. spring 1989