What lies beneath an ancient stream?
There rests a view no longer seen.
What is the love between the nails?
Drawn further than which sin impales.
Furrowed in a blood stained brow,
Upholds the weary stricken now.
It flows from wounds pierced with pain,
A healing power that does sustain.
'Tis Naught! A vacant tomb remains!
Ne'er again to death restrain!
From above to the sky rescind
Until Christ shall appear again.
Captured as one a pristine bride
His church will rapture to His side.
In one voice we will all implore,
Upon His mighty wings we'll soar.
Hands raised in worship we will sing,
Jesus Christ, the Messiah King!