The night was deep and the silence was thick
As the Maker of man and the Builder of worlds
Tread onward alone and fell on His face
Fulfilling God's will and bringing us Grace.
But Sunday will come! Sunday will come!
The thought lends hope to the downcast and weary.
The day dawn will break and the darkest of nights
Will end with the birth of renewing light.
The lightning raged in a billowing surge,
And shadows of crosses were cast on the ground.
"Oh, Father above forsakest Thou me?"
Cried the loneliest man as He hung on a tree.
But Sunday will come! Sunday will come!
The thought lends hope to the broken and lost.
The soul now rejected by friend and by kin
Will know what it means to feel loved once again.
It came! It came! And because it did
Our Sundays come, too, and give us the strength
To wait out the storms, betrayal and fear,
Knowing deep down that our Savior is near.