He is not dead, He has risen
How could this be…?
How could He escape the cold icy grip of me?
He’s not here, He is missing
There has been a breach, no one ever escapes
from inside of me
He’s not here, the stone have been lifted and..
They have looked in -all that’s left
are the head wrap, spices and strips of linen
He’s not here and I am empty.
He’s not dead, He’s among the living
He’s become the first fruit of them that sleepeth
What! He’s not dead? And we’re not winning?
How can we hinder them from believing?
For if He’s not dead they no longer have to continue living sinning
Let’s say they stole the Body and buried it
somewhere deep within…
But He’s not here!
You better start believing for if so be the case you’re victory run have ended
and so is my stinging
He’s not dead! He’s risen!
Behold the hands, Behold the nails