Friday, March 29, 2013

The Song of a Galilean Fisherman

I wrote this poems several years ago. I was reminded of it tonight and would like to share it with you. We remember today the crucifixion of our Lord, and we remember the fact that the ones who condemned Jesus to death, who denied ever having known Him, could have been us. We are, in fact, just as guilty of blasphemy and denial, and yet that horrific death on the cross paid our penalty. Remember with me the remorse of Peter and the grace that was shown to him. The same grace has been shown to us.

The Song of a Galilean Fisherman

He spoke in manner plain and true.
Why would I not believe?
He spoke because He ever knew.
Perhaps He ever grieved.

But in my false and foolish might
I heeded Him, aghast.
Of all I had on mind that night,
Denial was the last.

I thought, “No doubt I’ll prove Him wrong,
“As friend to show my worth.”
My sword rang out in jarring song.
An ear fell to the earth.

My action done, He firmly chid:
An unforeseen reply.
To put my sword away He bid,
Lest by it should I die.

So close about our meager band,
Came priests and foreign men
 And though a few did by Him stand,
Our numbers dwindled then.

Like one who sees himself as brave
The roguish band I traced.
They reached the house and I, a knave,
The glowing courtyard faced.

I thought to only warm my hands
Outside, while He was tried.
The slave girl came with her demands.
And it was then I lied.

To think that I had been so bold
To doubt He knew my heart.
The rooster crowed as He foretold.
I went a stood apart.

I wept as I have never wept
Before or ever will.
My soul as to a corner crept.
I felt both weak and ill.

But I remembered how He said
That He had prayed for me.
I thought of how He healed the dead
And set the sinner free.

If He could work such works for throngs
That daily would implore,
Could He not cover all my wrongs
Notice them no more?

The evening next I understood
That this is why He died.
My awful guilt was gone for good.
‘Twas then for joy I cried.

No comments:

Post a Comment