Easter Song

Hear the bells ringing, they're singing
That you can be born again
Hear the bells ringing, they're singing
Christ is risen from the dead

The angel up on the tombstone
Said He has risen just as He said
Quickly now, go tell his disciples
That Jesus Christ is no longer dead

Joy to the world&mdash
He has risen, hallelujah!
He has risen, hallelujah!
He has risen, hallelujah!

-Keith Green

That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection

Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows flaunt forth, then chevy on an air-
built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs they throng; they glitter in marches.
Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, wherever an elm arches,
Shivelights and shadowtackle in long lashes lace, lance, and pair.
Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ropes, wrestles, and beats earth bare
Of yestertempest's creases; in pool and rut peel parches
Squandering ooze to squeezed dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches
Squadroned masks and manmarks treadmire toil there
Footfretted in it. Million-fueled, nature's bonfire burns on.
But quench her bonniest, dearest to her, her clearest-selved spark
Man, how fast his firedint, his mark on mind, is gone!
Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark
Drowned. O pity and indignation! Manshape, that shone
Sheer off, disseveral, a star, death blots black out; nor mark
Is any of him at all so stark
But vastness blurs and time beats level. Enough! the Resurrection,
A heart's-clarion! Away grief's gasping, joyless days, dejection.
Across my foundering deck shone
A beacon, an eternal beam. Flesh fade, and mortal trash
Fall to the residuary worm; world's wildfire, leave but ash:
In a flash, at a trumpet crash,
I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,
Is immortal diamond.

-Gerard Manley Hopkins

Hands in the Air

If I raise my hands just to lift the shade
Will I reveal a sky heavy and gray?
Will last night be a memory sweetly fading?
How I hate a morning starting out this way.
On these lonely raging mornings I would whip you if I could,
But you're on the mighty side of strong and the perfect side of good.

If I raise my hands will you grab me by the wrists
And will you try to pull me from the fray?
And even if my fingers join together into fists
Will you hold me firmly anyway?
Because I would try to escape you but for every day I'm sure
That you're on the huge side of big and the holy side of pure.

Okay, hear what I say
As I raise my hands in surrender today
Okay, here I will stay
Hands in the air, singing have thine own way

If I raise my hands so weak and thin and frail
Will you reveal the light of mercy in your eyes?
If I cry to you faintly will my feeble whisper fail
Or will it find its way to a reply?
Because now that I'm exhausted I think I'm ready to admit
That I have spent all my resistence on someone that I can't resist.

Okay, hear what I say
As I raise my hands in surrender today
Okay, here I will stay
Hands in the air, singing have thine own way

Light from my windowsill
Make my way to the door
I hang my head and still
I know you're wanting more
Over the threshold now
I move across the yard
All that my will allows
My every step is hard
Now in the garden I
Carve out six feet of space
There make my will comply
Lie down upon my face
Been toe to toe too long
I'm tired of fighting you
I see you were too strong
Cause I am black and blue
But now I understand
The loser's due to win
How every dying man
Is sure to rise again
So I raise my left hand one
I raise my right hand two
Under the morning sun
My spirit cries to you

Okay, hear what I say
As I raise my hands in surrender today
Right here, under the sun
Hands in the air, saying thy will be done
I'm here, under the sun
Hands in the air, singing thy will be done
Okay, here I will stay
Hands in the air, singing have thine own way
Hands in the air, singing have thine own way
Have thine own way, have thine own way

-The Waiting