Warmth is creeping, touching sheltered nooks where plants are sleeping – an opened primrose promises delicate bouquet to come, a celandine spreads narrow petals
Who’d put their hope in a dead man? in disappointment, fear they ran. – But now, he lives! they're full of joy, and boldly speak, though threatened by those who their bodies can destroy.
[*Ki.r] Plunging, crunching through the deep, crisp snow – what fun, but, oh, so slow! then up the hill we go (the sky a-mist with floating drift), but when we reach the steeper bit
Many philosophies, only one where God himself stepped into history; many killings, but only one immortal person died, a mystery; many injustices, but only One sinless, suffered crucifixion,
