By Sandy Carroll
When April dawns on Easter morn,
Upon pink primrose in the lane,
And church bells peel through crisp, cool air,
As if declaring, “Glad you've come.”
In my flowerbed are colored eggs,
Awaiting innocent, excited eyes,
In search of treasures from a kindred heart,
Placed there in sweet disguise.
A hand outstretched you can not see,
Will touch your shoulder if you believe,
That nothing in this world is lost,
Saved unconditionally by the Cross.
The pain endured from wood and nail,
Upon our savior's body thin,
Insured an entire human race,
Love and hope would return again.
I'll pick an Iris from along the road,
With its startling purple face,
An Easter gift assuring me,
Of His sweet enduring grace.