Easter Hymn

Here hangs a man discarded,

a scarecrow hoisted high,

a nonsense pointing nowhere

to all who hurry by.

Can such a clown of sorrows

still bring a useful word

where faith and love seem phantoms

and every hope absurd?

Can he give help or comfort

to lives by comfort bound,

where drums of dazzling progress

give strangely hollow sound?

Life emptied of all meaning,

drained out in bleak distress,

can share in broken silence

my deepest emptiness;

and love that freely entered

the pit of life’s despair

can name our hidden darkness

and suffer with us there.

Christ, in our darkness risen,

help all who long for light

to hold the hand of promise

and walk into the night.

Brian Arthur Wren