Easter brings a message bright,
Of love and peace and hope's pure light.
The cross of Christ, a symbol strong,
Reminds us of his love so long.
The tomb was empty, Christ had risen,
A message strong, a blessed vision.
The promise of new life so bright,
Was made for us on Easter night.
So let us gather 'round and sing,
In joyful praise of Christ, our King.
With grateful hearts, let's offer prayer,
And know that Christ is always there.
For Easter brings a message bright,
Of hope and love, of peace so right.
May we all feel God's gentle hand,
And know that we are truly blessed.
Meeting the Easter Bunny
by Rowena Bennett
On Easter morn at early dawn
before the cocks were crowing
I met a bob-tail bunnykin
and asked where he was going.
"Tis in the house and out the house
Tis round the house
and 'bout the house a-lighlty I am going."
"But what is that of every hue
you carry in your basket?"
"Tis eggs of gold and eggs of blue;
I wonder that you ask it.
"Tis chocolate eggs and bonbon eggs
and eggs of red and gray,
For every child in every house
on bonny Easter day.
He perked his ears
and winked his eye and twitched his little nose;
He shook his tail -- what tail he had --
and stood up on his toes.
"I must be gone before the sun;
the east is growing gray;
Tis almost time for bells to chime."
-- So he hippety-hopped away.
by Grandpa Tucker
Little Easter, the comedienne bunny,
Tried too hard at being funny.
She juggled and she dropped the eggs
They fell and smashed between her legs.
Poor Easter left the stage in shame
And thought that she might change her name.
But then that bunny read this ad,
"This Sunday we need help real bad."
So Easter Bunny kept her name
And through the years has gained much fame,
When Easter's Sunday comes each year.
She delivers eggs and we all cheer.
I Saw a Little Bunny
I saw a little bunny
going hop, hop, hop.
I said, "Please, Mr. Bunny,
won't you stop, stop, stop."
He flapped his big, long ears
and had no word to say,
And before I could get near him
he had hop, hop, hopped away!
He loved and died
When He was being beaten and spat upon
When His flesh was being torn by the whip
When His back was scourged,
Then He saw me being baptized
and so He permitted them to do so.
When the crown was crushed into His head
When He tasted His own blood
When the thorns pierced His flesh,
Then He saw me praying
and so He killed them not.
When His cross was so heavy that he fell
When He carried wood on His torn flesh
When He wished simply to move no more,
Then He saw me in confession,
and so He got up and walked on.
When His hands were being pierced
When He hung from a cross
When His side was bleeding,
Then He said I love YOU.
and so He died.
Why did the sun his beams conceal
As if unwilling to reveal
That deed of mankind on the day
When Jesus, at the altar, lay
A willing sacrifice.
Earth, too, in terror shook, when He
The Mighty, died on Calvary;
When for our sins He bowed His head,
Gave up the ghost, and quickly sped
To regions of the dead.
And some who had for ages long
Been wrapped in slumber deep and strong,
Awoke, and by their converse showed
That death no more dominion had
In that He died.
Why did He die? Ah! blissful thought,
When we near death and hell were brought,
He left His father's courts above--
O, list to such amazing love--
And died to save.
Why did He die? 'Twas love divine
That caused Him all things to resign--
A heavenly choir, celestial home,
Exalted seat, seraphic song,
And all to save.
Blest thought! He reigns victorious now,
To whom all earth will shortly bow,
Let men below and saints above
Wonder at such stupendous love,
As caused their God to die.
In all the world;
There is no place
As dear to me
As in an empty tomb within Gethsemane.
Men singing the praises
Of the cross,
And rightly so,
Yet it is to the empty tomb
I love to go
It's there with Paul I daily die
When sore oppressed,
It's there, where men are loathe to go
I sweetly rest.
It's there, when heart ache's
angry waves envelop me,
In Faith, I lift my mournful face
My Lord to see.
There is no place so fraught with power
Our souls to save,
As is our Lord's last resting place,
His empty grave.
In darkest hours of grief, beside
a new made mound,
I go again, the depths of God's
Great love to sound.
And while I view the grave and clothes,
The echoes ring:
"O, Grave, where is they victory"
O, Death, thy sting?"
As, one by one, the loved ones cross
the threshold's gloom,
I fain believe, embrace, receive,
The Empty Tomb.
by Mary D. Sammons
from "Streams in the Desert 2"