The streets were dark and empty

In the oor afore the dawn

Naebody heard her leave the hoose

Nor saw whar she was gaun.

Naebody saw her tak the path

The climmed the steeny slope

To the Gairden what they'd laid him,

Numb, wi' grief, bereft o' hope.

She had often heard his teachin

As she sat at Jesus' feet;

Now his promises seemed empty,

An the future cauld an bleak.

There was one last thing to dee

For the Maister she'd adored,

As she cairried oils and spices

For the body o' the Lord.

By the time she reached the Gairden

The Eastern sky was grey,

An the morning star was risin

In the threshold o' the day.

At the grave she stood dumfoonert,

Disbelieven what she saw,

For the tomb was lying empty

An the steen was rolled awa.

She ran back doon the steeny path

Throew the early morning toun

She could hardly speak for sobbin

When she reached the upper room.

"A'richt, my lass," said Peter

"Tak your time an tell's again."

"They've ta'en the Lord awa," she sobbed,

Whar he's at I dinna ken."

I'll awa and see what's happened."

Peter took her by the haun.

John already had his coat on.

"Come on, Peter, if ye're gaun."

John an Peter, feart and puzzled,

Stood inside the empty tomb

As the early mornin' sunshine

Passed the door an lit the gloom.

They could see the grave clothes lyin

In a heap upon the flleer;

Peter stooped to lift the headcloth.

"Ae thing's sure; there's naebody here."

Sad an tired, the twa disciples

Made their wye back doon the hill.

Mary bade there by the graveside,

Saftly greetin till herself.

"But gang and tell my brithers

That I've risen fae the dead,

An we'll meet in Galilee

In a little while," he said.

The morning sun shone brightly

As she walked back doon the hill;

The little birds sang sweetly;

Mary sang a tune herself;

Sang for the sunshine in her hert,

An for aa she'd seen an heard.

On that foremost Easter nornin'

When she met the risen Lord.

Robert Stephens - West Lothian, Scotland