“One Morning of Each Year,” Ensign, Apr. 1972, 25
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,
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!