Us of the reverence we seek to show
Our Paschal King. They are the first to go
This Maundy Night. It's time to leave behind
The starched white linen, gold brocade, and find
A bleaker, naked faith; to undergo
The three days' death that wakens us to know
This paradox: to see we must grow blind.
Criss-crossing without words the servers walk,
Take cloths and hangings out; we kneel, and pray;
The lights are dimmed; now Lent has done its work.
The chill night air strips clinging warmth away,
And sound and light are for another day –
Tonight we leave into the silent dark.
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