Gloria in Excelsis

A single drape of sable tulle

Is placed upon the cross;

The altar’s stripped, the church is dark:

God’s people mourn their loss.

 

On Saturday, the candles’ flames

Set faces all aglow;

The world waits for “Alleluia:”

He’s risen- this we know.

 

Then Sunday morn, the lilies come,

Delighting every eye;

All’s been restored, sin’s trampled down,

And Death’s been made to die.

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