Victory
Before the dawn could catch its breath, Before the guards could name their fear, A trembling rolled through borrowed death— The King was drawing near.
The stone that was sealed in silence Began to quake, to split, to cry, For death could never hold the Brave, Nor keep the Lord of Glory tied.
Like a Lion rising, fierce and bright, From shadowed den to claim the day, He shook the dark with holy might And tore the night itself away.
No timid step, no weakened plea— He rose with thunder in His chest, The grave undone, the captives free, Creation waking from its rest.
The scars still spoke, yet shone like flame, A victory written in His hands, The stone rolled back not just His name— But hope for all in broken lands.
Oh hear it now—the roaring Lion That echoes through both time and soul: What once was lost is now unbound, What once was dead is now made whole.
The Lion lives, the grave is torn, The curse undone, the veil is torn— And in that early, holy morn, Death lost… and Life forever won.
