The Myrrh-Bearing Women

They walked, nearly slain by grief, Love drew them onward—not belief. They knew the stone sealed tight the tomb, Yet did not know: Christ rose from gloom!

And myrrh they carried as they went— Tribute to love's acknowledgment. Sisters journeyed, but where were the rest? Peter and the brothers hid in distress.

Sisters walked, by duty drawn, No promise of reward was sworn. The path stretched long, the darkness deep, And fear held fast its bitter keep.

They walked to anoint the sacred form, To weep without restraint or storm. Soon each heart, without a bound, Would fill with joy: He is found!

We learn this lesson once again: Though stars have vanished from the plain, He commands—and we are ready still, And Christ comes forth to meet our will!