Lord of Heaven
God paints the colors in the sky
The wild display draws my eye
His work doth praise Him without voice
My soul likewise so rejoice
When I behold His mighty hand
How could I before Him stand?
Yet He unfolds the little rose
And my woeful frame He knows
He was willing to bear the cross
For my gain He suffered loss
At last the sky turns crimson red
For Christ Jesus died and bled
The story is not fully told
The grave could not keep its hold
The Son bursts forth out of the gloom
My Lord is risen from the tomb!
Heather Rausch
March 12th, 2019
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