Lazarus

Tied up in death clothes

Of custom and fear

Of common opinion

On what to hold dear.

Of panic for larder

And struggle to shine

Of seeking a platform

On what I call mine.

The cold fear of man

And tomorrow’s forecast

The sad premonition

That good things don’t last.

But Jesus awaits me

Outside this dark tomb

And beckons me forth

From the doubts and the gloom.

It’s life that He offers

And fresh hope instead

And songs of deliverance

From one who was dead.

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