Lazarus at the Triumphal Entry

I just know you want to hear this, but there isn’t much to tell.
I’m not sure that it was heaven, but I’m sure it wasn’t hell.
All around me there was feasting; Father Abraham was host.
We were having quite a party, one of which a king could boast.

Then a voice boomed out of nowhere; quite familiar was the shout.
In three words I knew its owner,. They were, “Lazarus!” and “Come out!”
I just had to leave the party. I was drawn into the gloom
And the darkness of a cave my sisters chose to be my tomb.

I was tied about my hands, around my feet, and chin to head,
Sitting up was quite a challenge for a man now four days dead.
Hopping out was even harder, very little could I see.
But the gasping of the crowd, I knew, was all because of me.

Now I join in the hosannas, hallelujahs, and the rest,
For the One we celebrate today is certainly the best.
But I wonder what my Friend has risked to raise me back to life
So close by the Holy City where they’re sharpening the knife.

I believe they’re out to get Him, so say those who ought to know.
And I think they’ll stop at nothing to give Him the fatal blow.
Soon my friend might join the party I so recently have shared.
He would be the guest of honor; no expenses would be spared.

Just how long would the grave hold Him--maybe three days, maybe four--
'Til a heav'nly power got there to annihilate Death’s door?
You could say I am an infant; You can count my age in days.
Yet I know I’ll soon be dying, with no Friend, this time, to raise.

You yourself, you know, are mortal. Soon, you see, you’ll meet with Death.
He will steal your heart’s last beating; he will rob your lungs of breath.
But that Voice that called me earthward, one great day will call to you.
Then, “Come forth!” he’ll say, and name you, and your body he’ll renew.

I just hope he'll seem familiar, when he draws you through the gloom
And you'll recognize a Friend it is who pulls you from the tomb.
—Steve Singleton