Christ, the Risen

Bearing the sins of all men,
The treacherous deeds of thoughts, mouth and pen,
Your glory filled the Earth,
Yet blinded, people question your worth,
Not understanding the hand behind the science,
This world lacking in conscience,
Worshipped your creation,
And stamped on you who had Risen,
Even your followers used your name in vain,
Your loved ones adding more to your pain,
Yet they ask, why not me? why always me?
Me, me, me, that’s all they see,
And yet we wonder, the signs of dust and everything dying away,
Shows we are far away from the way,
Of the one who has raised,
All creations that lived.