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Midnight calls with chimes that ring
Its evening song that nightly bring,
In sleeping house of muffled sound
My knees to bend on chilly ground.
I close my eyes and bow my head,
Silent there beside the bed.
A prayer that starts through folded hands
Takes me far, to distant lands.
And in my mind a picture form
Of Calvary’s hilltop ripe with storm.
Thunder rolls on dark of day
And lightning on horizons play.
Where raindrops fall like torrent tears
That loudly splash on personal fears.
Yes, there it stands with wooden frame
Holding all my guilt and shame.
Looking up in great dismay,
An image I can hardly say
Is like a man or like a dove,
Yet somehow symbols purest love.
Below I kneel on rocky land
To bow my head and raise my hand.
Cry for forgiveness, feeling pain.
For me, in truth, this Man was slain,
Yet, as I weep, clouds roll away.
I hear the whisper of Him say,
“My love is real, forgiveness found,
And sin and death no longer bound.”
I gaze upon His wondrous face,
And in His eyes I find no trace
Of evil sin that hurt Him so.
For freely I can of Him know.
With joyous laugh and in His smile
I rest in glory for a while.
Then slowly lift my eyes to see
A midnight moon, a reddened knee.
I smile with utter joy and then
Declare my thanks and say “Amen.”
Then off beneath bedcovers crawl
And quickly luscious sleeping fall,
Without a care, without a loss.
For I am saved, there, at the cross.
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