Mary, Mary, Rising early, To the sepulcher, She meekly came. Mary, Mary, Running swiftly, “The tomb is empty!” She exclaimed. The stone that sealed, The holy chamber, Rolled aside, From where it’d been. Beloved disciple, Racing quickly, Looked inside, Yet went not in. Lying neatly, Were white linens, Wrapped together, They were not grieved. Then the one, Whom Jesus loved, When he saw, He first believed. Mary, Mary, Saw the angels, Sitting where, The Lord had lain. Mary, Mary , “Why thou weepest? Whom thou seeketh, Did not remain.” Then He spoke, And she cried, “Master!” “Touch Me not, My loving friend.” “Go tell my brethren, That unto my Father, Yea to your Father, I do ascend.” Mary, Mary, Told the disciples, That she did speak, To whom they adored. Mary, Mary, Oh blessed Mary, First to see, The risen Lord. David Allen Foust ©2014
