O the pain of my soul at the gasping sight,
When the brightest day became darkest night!
The winds raged as if in protesting cry,
Whipping their voices as if to scream..."Why?"
And, in my heart I could not dare to believe
That I possessed the strength to grieve-
That I could witness all before my eyes
As the Lord of life and hope now die.
Yet, I had to believe that there was more,
That my God surely still had much in store-
That eternal hope could not so quickly end,
That broken lives and dreams would mend.
Though this vision was a waking dream.
And could not end Pilate’s evil scheme-
Though I was two thousand years too late
To halt a plan so filled with man’s hate.
I could no less voice my protest of shame
At this "necessary action" in man’s name-
And, yet, I hasten to speak with gratitude
For the love and caring so long ensued.
Grateful that the Father would act in grace
To touch us gently, let us see His face-
To grasp the mourning, the sadness of flesh,
To bring the dance of life, lift refresh!
And, then, I knew, though I was not there,
That my Lord, my God, did, surely, care.
My smallness of pain was lessened , indeed!
By the pain of the Cross...the ’forever’ seed!
Copyright : April 9, 1989
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