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.