Footprints

I traced His footprints up Golgotha’s hill,
and paused for a while as my heart stood still.
Because there upon the cross I could see
the One who had laid down His life for me.

No footprints led from the Cross to the tomb
For He was carried to that gloomy room,
placed in the sepulchre all wrapped and bound:
the entrance sealed so He could not be found.

Then wonder of all wonders there was seen
folded grave clothes where His body had been.
“Do not seek the living amongst the dead,
for He has now risen,” the angels said.

Footprints were coming from the open grave,
for Christ was alive and with power to save.
Risen in the power of an endless life;
and conquering Death by His sacrifice.