There in the garden in the stone newly hewn,
lay the King upon a slab in Joseph’s tomb,
cold, dark, silent, and still
this is just the interlude.

We pause for a moment of silence for the dead
out of respect for even godless men
that gave their lives for us in the crucial hour.
In Flanders Fields are blood red flowers,
and under them shattered soldiers,
but here the war is over,
no more torture, descent to hell, nor soul sleep,
no swooning, or grave robbing,
Paradise receives her King,
only for the time being.

As the first Adam came from dust and there returned,
this to the Last Adam fulfilled when He was buried-
a Sabbath rest to begin new work next.
This is only the intermission to the great commission,
He just had a break like a KitKat.
His voluntary submission to death was just that,
because He was always above it,
and pretty soon He was over it.

Please, the postlude.

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