‘He’s gone,’ says Joseph, and, with Pilate’s leave

Eases the nails and lowers him from the Tree’

Wraps him in reverent and tender thoughts

And lays him in the cave called Memory.

That cave is deeply hewn in Joseph’s heart:

All that’s within will always be his own:

In memory’s cave the treasure of his past

Is safe for ever, walled and sealed by stone.

He’s safe’, says Joseph, ‘safe in this cool place

And no one now can take my Lord away.

In years to come I’ll still see his dear face

As clearly as I’ve seen it on this day.’

‘He’s gone’, cries Joseph at the empty tomb:

But Mary says, ‘He’s left a word for you:

He cannot rest content to be your past,

So he has risen to be your future too.’

W.H. Vanstone (1923-1999),  1977.