WE’VE WEATHERED THE COLD, THE FROST, AND THE SNOW,
A SEASON OF DARK WHERE FEW THINGS CAN GROW.

WE’VE WAITED AND WAITED; WE’VE ANTICIPATED 
REPRIEVE FROM THE FRIGID EMBRACE THAT’S BEREATED.

OUR SURFACE EXPOSED, THE REDNESS IT SHOWS
OF WIND-BATTERED SKIN FROM EXTERNAL FOES.

BUT NOT ALL THAT’S FELT IS SEEN WITH THE EYE;
THE INTERNAL STORM, WITH TEARS LEFT UNCRIED.

THE BATTLE WITHIN, BEHIND FROSTED GRIN—
TRUTH HARD TO SEE UNLESS YOU’RE LET IN.

“WHERE IS THE SPRING?” THE SOUL SEEMS TO SAY,
A CHANGE FROM THE SEASON SO SHROUDED IN GRAY.

BUT WAIT, DO YOU HEAR THAT? THE SONG OF THE BIRD,
THE WORSHIP OF SPARROWS TO A GOD OF HIS WORD.

THE PROMISE OF NEWNESS, THE PROMISE OF LIFE,
THE PROMISE THAT ONE DAY ALL THINGS WILL BE RIGHT.

DAY AFTER DAY, THE DARKNESS IS LIFTED,
A GLIMMER OF HOPE HAS THE ATMOSPHERE SHIFTED.

LITTLE BY LITTLE, UP FROM THE GROUND,
WHERE ONCE WAS DEATH, SHOOTS OF LIFE CAN BE FOUND.

IT’S JUST THE BEGINNING, MORE BEAUTY IN STORE.
IT’S NOT PERFECT YET, BUT THE PROMISE IS MORE.

BEAUTIFUL GLIMPSES OF FULLNESS TO BE—
ALREADY, NOT YET;  IN CREATION, IN ME.

IN CHRIST, SPRING IS COMING; THE GARDEN IN BLOOM.
IN CHRIST, WE REST, WAITING FOR WHAT WILL BE SOON.

IN CHRIST, SPRING REMINDS US THAT DEATH LOSES HOLD.
IN CHRIST, THE TRUE STORY OF NEW LIFE UNFOLDS.

SPRING IS UPON US, HOPE SHINING THROUGH.
JESUS, I LOVE YOU;
JESUS, I LOVE YOU TOO.