The Visitor


Our heads were in a tumult as we set our feet for home,

We never dreamed He could be crushed and killed by cruel Rome.

Our early hopes were shattered, we had nowhere else to go,

He may not be Messiah, yet we loved our Master so.


We thought he was the Saviour, who the prophets said would come

Yet now he lies, a mutilated body in a tomb.

It’s true this morning women brought a tale, that He’s alive.

It has to be a desperate dream to help their hopes survive.


A Stranger came and joined us, as we trudged along the way,

He didn’t know the dreadful deeds before the Sabbath day

So, we poured out all our sadness, all our disappointed sorrow,

Hoping for encouragement to get us through tomorrow.


Then as we walked, He opened up our minds to something new;

God’s message in the Scripture, that we recognized as true.

We heard the story in a way we’d never heard before,

And when we reached our home, our hearts were crying out for more.


“Come, rest a while and eat with us,” with urgent hope we said,

“We’re having just a simple meal, some wine, some oil, some bread”

We handed Him the loaf to break, and then to our surprise,

We saw His hands, all scarred and torn, and the Spirit cleared our eyes!


That very moment, He was gone.  We stared at one another,

Grabbing our cloaks, we set off back, to tell our doubting brothers,

Our steps were racing joyfully, impatient to arrive,

To tell them, that we knew for sure that Jesus was alive!


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