She Is Not Here

I visited the grave,
Of someone who was dear.
I miss her still each day;
So wished that she was near.

A hard and faithful life
She quietly endured.
The crosses on her way,
Our good Lord had assured.

When I remember her,
There’s ebbing pain and grief
I pace through time and wonder
Why couldn’t I relieve

Her of the things she suffered?
Why wasn't there a way?
Then I remember something
A preacher once did say:

“There’s always light awaiting
Don’t trust the things you hear.
The angels once proclaimed,
Rejoice! He is not here!”

Now by her grave I stand,
I shed a single tear.
Then suddenly those words resound:
“Rejoice! She is not here.”