Joseph of Arimathaea

In shadows veiled, a heart concealed,

A secret love, a truth revealed,

Joseph, noble, in silence stood,

With trembling hands, he grasped the good.

Beneath the weight of darkest skies,

He ventured forth, with tearful eyes,

To claim the body, pure and rare,

The Savior’s love, beyond compare.

Oh, how the nails did pierce His skin,

The wounds of love, where grief began,

Joseph’s heart, a vessel torn,

For all the hopes in Him reborn.

Each fragile breath, a whispered prayer,

He touched the Lord, with tender care,

Removing nails with aching grace,

As sorrow filled that sacred space.

The linen cloth, so soft and white,

To wrap the body in the night,

With gentle hands, he cleaned the scars,

That bore the weight of our darkest wars.

Did thunder roll upon that day?

Did heaven weep in disarray?

For in that moment, time stood still,

A heart of flesh, yet iron will.

And in the silence of that tomb,

Where life once bloomed, now met with gloom,

Joseph knew the price He paid,

For love divine, a debt displayed.

A bitter sweet, yet holy role,

To cradle hope, to mend the soul,

Though darkness fell, he dared to stand,

To honor Christ with trembling hands.

For in our grief, His purpose gleams,

A new dawn whispered in our dreams,

With every tear and every sigh,

Joseph held faith, the reason why.

In sacred ground, where sorrows cease,

He laid the Lord, our true release,

With heavy heart, yet love’s embrace,

He knew the depth of death’s fine grace.

So, let us honor hearts that dare,

To love in shadows, to deeply care

Inspired by Pastor Samson Lugambo's sermon. "Secret Disciples"