The life of the world is alive again,
The children are at play,
The lilies, the songbirds, all our friends,
The joy that rain and sunshine sends,
All greet our hearts today.

The winter’s cold, but fertile tomb,
As dark as the new moon’s sky,
A seeming endless weary doom,
was but a hatching, wondering room,
to nurse the new life by.

When hopelessness runs out of steam,
And despair’s salty rivers run,
The temples tear along the seam,
The hardest rock gives up the dream,
Only then has grace begun.

The prince of peace is with us still,
No cross could bear that love,
The empire’s towers upon the hill,
which maim, and rip, and force, and kill,
Are but perches for the dove.

Be with those who have the least,
And true life is at your table,
When faith provides the slightest yeast,
Our time together is a feast,
And even death does not disable.

The life of the world is alive again,
The very stones proclaim it,
So let us live in Easter, friends,
Let go your fears, and make amends,
Feel the love, and name it.