'Twas the night before the Cross as the sky turned to gloom;

broken bread and covenant wine filled the Upper Room.

"One of you will betray me," said the King of the Jews;

then to the garden where the inner circle began to snooze.

On his knees He prayed that the cup might not spill,

as the prophecies alas began to fulfill.

Then came the night, then came the morning.

Hung by a tree was Judas in the brume,

as the crowd relentlessly chanted with faulty presume.

Mocked and scourged and heavy-laden with bruise,

then Simon carried the weighty cross to no amuse.

Innocently annihilated and facing torture on Calvary's Hill,

He died for our sins and the earth was anything but still.

Then came the night, then came the mourning.

As Pilate ordered that the soldiers guard the tomb,

the Sabbath came and there was temporary doom.

Then came the night, then came the morning.

Soon it was Sunday and the angel paid his dues;

the soldiers trembled as was spoken the good news!

The faithful women intently listened with thrill

as the empty tomb played its role in the Father's will.

*Based on Matthew's Gospel Account.