You entered into hist'ry,
bright star at Bethlehem,
and you will travel with me
to my Jerusalem.

Once on a hill at noonday
you climbed up on a tree,
and well I know that someday
the same will do for me.

We're born to crucifixions;
our lives are Golgothas,
but you make this affliction
into an Exodus.

For you have gone before me
along the way of death,
and you are waiting for me
beyond the end of breath.

I cannot know the season,
the moment coming due,
but I know this, my Jesus:
that I will follow you.

My journey will be different—
I cannot tread the skies—
but I was buried with you,
and with you I will rise.

Armenian Gospel manuscript 1609 By Unknown author – The Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42696252