In the darkness came a chanting,

a chanting, chanting, chanting—

in the darkness as the world began

came the song decanting

into sea and star, into mere and man

From the man came a canting,

a whining discord, the song slanting

at an angle from the thrumming tune

our Composer was implanting

in sand and soul, in sun and moon

Darkness devoured when recanting,

the broken song became a ranting

swallowed inside, unmaking man

unstringing cells, souls disenchanting

emptied of magic, of God-breathed plan

From the woman came panting,

bringing to life the Re-enchanting

Light of the World, the Son of Man—

Stricken, accused of supplanting

the God who sang as the world began

Darkness hovers, its voice incanting

death to God, his world, his chanting;

the Song is silenced in the tomb—

but decay is mere soil for planting. . .

in three days, Life will shatter gloom.