Easter Hymn

World’s about to blow,

Feel it building.

It is written on the winds of age.

The sparks are in the air.

Fuse is at the ready.

The signs of the time

Fall into line.

All these days now we know,

Full of quarrels and bickering,

And rumors and rumbling of war

God has given men a chance,

A saving Grace.

But they’re blind in their own glory and pride,

Can’t see the way the wind blows

Or the coming of night.

They chose they’re idols,

Shopping malls and pleasure palaces galore.

It is the substantive ignored

That blackens the soul to its core.

But the world’s about to explode

Like a bubble on a hot stove

Flinging us like dust.

Extinguishing like fire

Man’s expectation

Of his heart’s desire.

Where are your merchant ships of great wealth,

But sunk in seas of your despairs.

Men cry out to the world

Where do we find salvation?

Have no delusion

Your sin and pollution

They won’t save you now.

Find your solution in a grave

That held a treasure, not a body

Look not to the earth but the Son.

Look not to the earth but the son.

The bruised heel stands triumphant.

He flings us from dust

And Hell’s deep quagmire.

That was his promise,

That was God’s desire.

World’s about to blow

The end could come at any moment like thunder

But you can really know

When it ends here below

You’ll be raised from this mire.

Look not to the earth but the son.

Seek the one.

Seek the one.

Illustration: "Bigone" by Noelle, 1992