Author of Life (Thursday in Easter Week)
“It’s true: the Author of life lay dead,
Lay three days inside death’s tomb,
The Righteous and the Holy One
Made Himself an offering to
Ignorant, unrighteous men
Who knew not what they did.
It’s true, for we are witnesses;
We saw Him breathe and saw Him die
And saw Him rise again and eat
Fish and bread among us, He
Who made the fish swim, made grain grow
And lay dead on a tree.
Look: the one who makes bones live
And opens blinded eyes has made
The lame man walk along with us,
And you too must receive
The gift of faith, the gift of life,
The gift of utter joy.”
The lame man clinging onto them
Saw the stares of men who knew
Everything yet nothing too.
“Times of refreshing may come to you,”
Peter said, the tail’s sting
Hanging in the wind:
For everything was done for them
And nothing they could give,
Every debt was paid and all
Faith was theirs to take,
Yet some there were who still would not
Die that they might live.
The Consolations of Writing 