Poetry

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There's a story in the Bible that is told about the day,
A certain man named Lazarus at the edge of death lay.
Now Jesus could have healed, His friend then and there,
But great was the miracle that He would later share.

So great was their rejoicing, when Lazarus arose,
And we can see the reason, for the path Jesus chose.
Since Jesus knew the plan, then while Lazarus slept,
Why then in the middle does it say that, "Jesus wept?"

Supping with disciples gathered in the upper room,
Jesus knew the future, that held a cross and tomb.
He could have healed His friends from the stain of sin,
But great was the victory, that over death He'd win.

So great was their rejoicing when Jesus then arose,
And we can see the reason for the path that He chose.
Since Jesus knew the plan, and before Pilate stood,
Why then in the Garden did He sweat drops of blood?

Hanging on that cross, as He was just about to die,
Lonely and forsaken, He would ask His Father why.
Did He know the ending, then before it all began,
Was He really God, or maybe just a common man?

Many are the questions, friend, facing you and I,
How are we to know, what's truth or what the lie?
Religions try to ease the mind, some try to deceive,
We must make a choice, just what do we believe?

The Bible says that Jesus left a Glorious Throne on High,
To save the world He loved so much, to come and even die.
The chasm then of sin and death, His Love must truly span,
His flowing Blood was that of God, His heart that of a man.

Just like Lazarus's story, there's more than meets the eye,
The sweat drops in the Garden, a scene for you and I.
To "let this cup pass from me", or do the Father's Will,
Is the real question, and it stands before us still.

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