(By Judy Aspenson)
Photo Credit: Priscilla Miller
So bright the night, o’er fields of sheep
Where shone the star on stable dim,
Where God’s own Son in human flesh
Was born, crude manger used for Him.
So dark the night – Gethsemane –
The Savior prayed while others slept,
The cup of suffering He foreknew
Would be His own; at this He wept.
So dark the “night” at Calvary,
No sun to shine at black mid-day;
The One who came - Light of the World,
Our debt of sin was on Him laid.
So bright the morn at empty tomb,
An angel sat atop the stone!
Naught could keep our Savior held;
From death, in triumph, he arose.