A lonely beggar lay at the gate
Destitute, helpless and poor,
And by the rich man's table, would wait
For crumbs, that would fall to the floor.
Sores, putrefying, left unbound
Were tended, by dogs at his side,
Despised, no human help could be found,
In anguish, this poor man died.
His righteous soul, by an angel band
Was carried to Paradise,
The rich man also, by death's cold hand
In torment, opened his eyes.
From perpetual flames, the beggar was seen
Attired in splendour and grace,
Immortal, in robes, washed, pure and clean
For a banquet, yet to take place.
Isaiah told of this coming feast
Of fat things, marrow and wine,
A Saviour, Redeemer and Great High Priest
By the law and the prophets, enshrined.
Without the camp He'd suffer and die
Despised and rejected of men,
God's holy justice to satisfy
And a glorious bride to redeem.
A heavenly banquet is being prepared,
Compel the lost, to come in!
The helpless, filthy, enfeebled, ensnared,
Wretched and ravaged by sin.
Implanted garments of righteousness
Adorn this sanctified bride,
In judgement, mercy and kindness betrothed
To the Lamb, who on Calvary died.
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