Tuesday, December 16, 2014

The Sacrifice (A poem)

Like a wind that whispers naught, the pain of passing,
He fought not.
With head bowed low, he took upon him to bestow.
The great gift of eternal life, that those who knew not might know.
Taking neither flight nor knife, yet let enthrall great many life.
To His great might we may fight, yet those less witted refused his light.

Yet not to one's eternal resting place one goes without fighting death's throes.
To this great struggle, we have our leader.
Our great savant who shall be our pleader.
Let this be known, though earthly shown, beauty without measure, was torn asunder to earths great wonder.
He who was despised though earthly wise, made all that was die by His disguise.

The fall and depth of it all, led through this dark  squall.
Memoirs of the fight, so we might recall, tis all we need to redeem us from the fall.
In great dismay as Satan has his way.
Naught a heavenly creature let flutter.
Angels shudder now witness to him stutter,
Yet to Calvary he went without a mutter.
Great drops of scarlet were sweat so we might not fret
The Rose of Sharon let trample, led to an inheritance ample.
The womb of one once barren,
opened so that we might share therein'.
A heavenly blessing of which could not be compared. O' for a thousand tongues to sing so we might  be an heir within.

As befallen all man was allotted by the nails in his hand.
The greatest glory, made the lowest lowery throughout the land.
Him who knew no sin, now broken that we might win.

The greatest love story of all time, could be yours or mine.
Twas' the very purpose of your first breath.
The very moment you were born to the day of your death.
If only you will accept what was so glorious once bereft.
For you He suffered, for you received our wrath that you could find the path.
The ascent to heaven leads through miles of clouded pain, yet in time it will wain.
You will achieve far greater gain.

-Kyle Crockford

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