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Easter morning, before hope |
| Who will move the stone for me That hides my Lord away, That I may grieve And wash His feet With my tears? Who will move the stone for me In this place of death, And open wounds of memory To wash Him with my tears? Who will move the stone for me That I may join Him there And fill the empty place he left An agony of tears? Who will move the stone for me? I have no strength or faith For moving stones Or calming storms of tears. |