Poetry

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Cooing in a dark dank cave,
  the Child is lulled to sleep.
Unaware of Time's tidal wave
  people moved on Bethlehem's streets.
 
Even today we feel no threat
  from this small and innocent life.
Grown, He's the object of many a fret,
  though the Answer to sin and strife.
 
One tree means nothing without the other.
The cross could bring us to this Stranger.
Easter follows Christmas for Christ to be Savior,
  so the shadow of that tree loomed over the manger.
 
30 years later, after His birth,
  many saw His blood shed.
In death the Life showed us our worth.
Grace abounds, risen from the dead.
 
He was born that He would die,
  rather than be a holy Stranger.
That we, to Him, could so fly.
  a cross's shadow was on the manger.

© 12-14-09
 
“But Jesus answered them, saying, ‘The hour has come that the Son of Man should be glorified. Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain. He who loves his life will lose it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also. If anyone serves Me, him My Father will honor.
   
‘Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? '"‘Father, save Me from this hour’"'? But for this purpose I came to this hour.’” - John 12:23-27 
 
 

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