One Morning of Each Year

By Laurie Ann Huffman

Sunrise, and I’m up and watching

golden rockets break apart the clouds; the luster

of the early Sabbath sky; stars, fleeing the glory

of the Easter sun.

I hear the songs, the choirs to heaven

sending praises, and the reply of angels.

Aye, they rejoice with us—heaven and earth

in one bright bond.

The birds in chorus blend

as dew drips slowly from each leaf

to water earth once more;

And my mind reflects again, as past,

one morning of each year, an old familiar

tune that’s often sung;

But—on this day, it grips my heart

and tugs it so to let the words slip

past my trembling lips, to say,

in thanks,

I know that my Redeemer lives, what comfort …

In tears my voice gives way,

and I can only gaze into the sky

through which he rose and listen

more intently to the songs,

and know he lives!