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On Meeting the Risen LordMy Lord rose up on Easter Day
He walked on holy ground.
I sought him in the broken rock;
I sought him in the town.
I took the road to paradise;
its gates were open wide.
My lover was the gardener;
a wound was in his side.
The tree of Life was shadowing
the place on which he stood,
and flowers in the meadowland
were watered with his blood.
His crown was like the morning sun
that climbs above the rain.
His voice was like the evening sea.
He looked and called my name.
O Father, Son and Paraclete,
to you be praise and song.
The flock is resting on the hill.
The rains have come and gone.
