In the cool of the morning, at break of day,
A woman wept where her Saviour lay.
The tomb stood empty, the stone rolled wide,
While sorrow clouded her tear-filled eyes.
She heard a voice whisper, soft and near,
“Why do you weep? Why are you here?”
She turned, uncertain, no longer alone
And saw in the garden a man unknown.
She mistook Him first for a gardener there,
Hands rough with toil, earth-stained with care.
Yet what greater truth could ever be told?
The Gardener of souls, tending His fold.
With voice familiar, He called her name,
And light burst forth like dawn’s first flame.
No longer a tomb, but a garden bright,
New life had sprung from death’s dark night.
And still He walks where hearts lay cold,
Breaking the ground, restoring the soul.
His hands, though pierced, are strong and true,
He tends the earth — He tends you.
Heavenly Father, who planted Eden in the midst of the wilderness, tend my soul this Easter season. As new growth and life burst forth from the cold, sleeping earth in springtime, I ask that you bring forth new life in me. Clear away the sticks and leaves that clutter my heart and bring forth newness and freshness in me.
As Christ emerges from the grave, I entrust myself to the wisdom of the Great Gardener. Uproot what doesn’t belong, fertilize what is weak and prune what is good, that it may flourish and become increasingly abundant.
Holy Spirit, who breathes life into mud, restore my soul. Fill the air with your presence that with every breath I may be filled with your power, comfort and love.
God, Strengthen and sustain me each day and give me the wisdom to live wholly dependent on You.
Amen.