Easter is the most important event in the Christian calendar. So it is fitting that Easter poems should be both written and used.
Easter, a time of reflection, not on whom has on the prettiest frock, not how many colored eggs the children can find, but how much was the cost, so that all who believe would have eternal life.
What is that cost, certainly not the 30 pieces of silver given to Judas for betraying God's Son. By the way, it cost Judas his own life. It wasn't the cost of the wood and nails that took the life of the innocent man. It wasn't the cost of the grave cloth or the spices or even the borrowed tomb.
It was more precious than all the silver and gold in this world, the life that was given, yes given, for only the Son of God, the spotless Lamb, the perfect life, and His cleansing crimson flow that could pay the cost for you and me.
An Easter poem by Judy Crowe
The narrow road twisted and turned
As He shouldered the heavy load.
Out of the mob, compassion came
And the burden was lifted, I'm told.
The stones jabbed and tore at his feet
As He tread the rocky, hot dusty road.
And the people jeered and prodded Him
As a life for some silver had been sold.
There were three crude wooden crosses
That lay upon the bleak, darkened hill.
Three men were led through the throng,
The air around them became eerie and still.
Because He was chosen to be the sacrifice
And was to die on a crudely carved tree,
His Father above had to sadly turn His back
And allow His precious Son to die cruelly.
There was a tomb awaiting the Son of God.
A huge stone was placed to seal His body inside.
No way could any enter there to take Him away.
Yet, when the women saw the empty tomb, they cried.
They saw the angel standing there as he spoke,
"Do not worry over the empty borrowed tomb,
For God had made a promise which now is kept.
The Lord Himself, is risen, thus the empty tomb.
An Easter poem by Judy Crowe
Rising above death to a newness of life,
Eternally sheltered in His outstretched arms,
Sincerely trusting in His Holy Word,
Straying slightly, He keeps us from harms.
Using each day in prayer and witness,
Raised from out of the depths of sin,
Every way in Him give glory and praise,
Coming to the fullness of grace, we gain peace within.
Tortured and torn on the cross so cruel,
Father, into Thy hands, I commend my Spirit, He cried.
On the third day, He had risen from death.
No grave could hold Him, no matter how hard they tried.
An Easter Poem by Judy Crowe
Was His Body Stolen
Two women came to anoint Him there,
When their eyes beheld the empty tomb,
They cried, "They have stolen Him!"
They saw the covering in the empty room.
Their voices wailed, their comfort wrought,
They did not see the angel sitting there.
Their faith had waned, the promise forgotten,
His resurrection came; thus the grave was bare.
"But wait," they heard the voice and then
They turned to see the angel standing near.
They were afraid and cried out the awful dread.
"Did you see them take my Lord from here?"
"But wait," the angel said once more. "Listen."
The women cried, "You don't understand."
"Oh, but I do, it's you who do not comprehend."
"The Lord is risen, the Son of God and Son of Man."
Then comfort came; their faith was regained.
Their tears turned to joy as they were told.
They ran to tell the wonderful news abroad,
The Lord had risen, He, the grave could not hold.
by Judy Crowe
Use these Easter poems as will be an encouragement to you and to others. But please, don't post them on any other web site.
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