Poetry

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I am thirsty!
Quench My thirst with sour wine.
God have mercy,
Forsaken as I hang here dying.

Death breathes its lusty breath on Me,
Yet this is what I sought;
I am alone up on this tree,
Has this death now wrought?

Naked and shorn from life and goodness,
I am most despised of any man;
Yet may My blood and flesh address
The curse that makes My b'loved damned.

I sing Your praise, Father and Lord,
With each pathetic moan;
This good work I trust to reward
Those lost in sin and alone.

My thirst is quenched, but not with wine,
Your righteousness flows like a wave;
I face this cross with joy for Mine;
Those who choose Me to be saved.

Herald the Truth locked in the earth,
See it won't be bound;
Embrace the Truth and find new birth,
With new life to resound.

I am alive
With those alive in Me;
My joy thrives
In those who thrive in Me.



© Bob Barra, 3-4-08

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