SUNDAY SERVICES:

Scriptures for today.
Psalm 97, 99 · Exodus 12.40-51. · 1 Corinthians 15.29-41 · Psalm 115 · Matthew 28.1-16

Prayer for today.

Lord of all life and power, who through the mighty resurrection of your Son overcame the old order of sin and death to make all things new in him: grant that we, being dead to sin and alive to you in Jesus Christ, may reign with him in glory; to whom with you and the Holy Spirit be praise and honour, glory and might, now and in all eternity.

Question for today.

The poem says that the Savior comes, and with him mirth. How might the Resurrection infuse you with joy? How does the dawning of new creation, or the promise of life out of death help you to relax, and rejoice?

Read this Easter poem by the seventeenth-century Anglican priest-poet George Herbert.

The Dawning

Awake, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns ;

Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth ;

Unfold thy forehead, gathered into frowns ;

Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth :

Awake, awake,

And with a thankful heart His comforts take.

But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry,

And feel His death, but not His victory.

Arise, sad heart; if thou dost not withstand,

Christ's resurrection thine may be;

Do not by hanging down break from the hand

Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee:

Arise, Arise;

And with His burial linen drie thine eyes.

Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, when grief

Draws tears or blood, not want a handkerchief.

I have no wit, no words, no tears;

My heart within me like a stone

Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears;

Look right, look left, I dwell alone;

I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief

No everlasting hills I see;

My life is in the falling leaf:

O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf,

My harvest dwindled to a husk:

Truly my life is void and brief

And tedious in the barren dusk;

My life is like a frozen thing,

No bud nor greenness can I see:

Yet rise it shall—the sap of Spring;

O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl,

A broken bowl that cannot hold

One drop of water for my soul

Or cordial in the searching cold;

Cast in the fire the perish'd thing;

Melt and remould it, till it be

A royal cup for Him, my King:

O Jesus, drink of me.

I have no wit, no words, no tears;

My heart within me like a stone

Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears;

Look right, look left, I dwell alone;

I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief

No everlasting hills I see;

My life is in the falling leaf:

O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf,

My harvest dwindled to a husk:

Truly my life is void and brief

And tedious in the barren dusk;

My life is like a frozen thing,

No bud nor greenness can I see:

Yet rise it shall—the sap of Spring;

O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl,

A broken bowl that cannot hold

One drop of water for my soul

Or cordial in the searching cold;

Cast in the fire the perish'd thing;

Melt and remould it, till it be

A royal cup for Him, my King:

O Jesus, drink of me.