How comes this flower to bloom is so fair
With loveliest fragrance to fill the air
A short time ago, the seed lay dead,
The cold, wintry ground its desolate bed.
But now, behold, from the damp earth,
Without a sound to betray its birth,
This thing of beauty has blossomed and grown,
To possess a loveliness all its own.
And as we view it, standing there
With a majesty quite beyond compare,
A mighty conviction grips my heart:
This beautiful flower has a counterpart.
Our Saviour once suffered and died for sin,
Though no one so righteous as He had been
Ie seemed that the devil had sealed His doom,
As they buried His body in Joseph's tomb.
But what is this wonder that greets our eyes,
As the rays of the third morning's sun arise!
Behold! He is risen! The grave the grave could not hold
The Author of life, the anointed of God.
And now the dead who have trusted His Name,
Though sleeping in Jesus, will rise again,
With bodies more glorious than this flower,
Sown in weakness, but raised in power.
