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)