He Rested [Original Sonnet for Holy Saturday]
- r.m. allen
- Mar 30, 2024
- 1 min read
Our day of rest has come—we have not slept.
We rise in darkness, taunted by the dawn.
No sun can light these wasted eyes. We wept
to flood our beds with tears: our Lord is gone.
He promised we would know the way, yet He
has gone beyond the scope of foll’wing feet.
His ears are closed to crying. Hands that we
stretch out for rescue find Him out of reach.
(Or so we, darkling, think.) But look—He rests
this Sabbath, for His work is finished here.
The faithful servant wins the keys of death,
sets free the captives, brings the far-off near.
Awaken to the light of life; be blessed
with Him to rise and enter into rest.
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I appreciate how this post gives specific context around Mrs. Allen Makes. The argument is easier to follow because it connects the headline point with concrete details instead of staying at a slogan level. It gave me a few useful points to think about. Thanks for sharing the perspective. A small example from the same kind of practical context is AI Miniature Generator, where the surrounding explanation matters more than the link itself.