In The Grave They Laid Him...

Now the green blade rises from the buried grain,
Wheat that in dark earth many days has lain;
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green.

In the grave they laid him, love whom men had slain,
Thinking that never he would wake again.
Laid in the earth like grain that sleeps unseen:
Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green,

Forth he came at Easter, like the risen grain,
He that for three days in the grave had lain.
Quick from the dead my risen Lord is seen:
Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green.

When our hearts are wintry, grieving, or in pain,
Thy touch can call us back to life again;
Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green.

At 3 o'clock yesterday, Good Friday - the hour of Jesus' death, I walked quietly round the garden. Flowers and foliage were bursting forth, glorious in the afternoon sunshine. I marvelled at the different colours, varying shapes of foliage, the blooms large and small, showy or delicate.  I take no credit - these were all planted long before I arrived in Dorset - and have lain dormant in the earth through the cold dark winter, and now they appear again to bring delight and fragrance to our home.

It was surprisingly quiet - apart from gentle birdsong, and a few buzzing bees. 

On this Holy Saturday, we wait in hope, for the joy of the resurrection morning.