His words are done, and now He rests,
A fragrant corpse in a rich man's tomb.
Lifted up, indeed—but are we healed?
The night He chided me for darkened mind
Is not behind me yet,
For this death no more
Than second birth I grasp.
How can earth receive
A body so unlike itself?
Not spice nor worthy grave
Can honor Him, nor rescue us,
But only words of life I heard
When cowardly I went by night.
No words now—but pregnant death!
That brings us to the womb again
And stirs our souls to breathe anew
The air His Spirit stirred!
Both birth and death are buried now
In the Word that does not die.
--Elton D. Higgs
(Nov, 11, 1980; rev. 3/18/04)