Jesus Christ, The Hope of Glory!

My little boy stood in my kitchen silently
Holding a paper with red marks given quite freely.
His hands trembled and in his eye was a tear
His face was wracked with the look of disappointment and fear.

What is the matter I said to my son.
Why are you crying; what has someone done?
He reached his little hand out to me
Giving me the paper he wanted me to see.

Mommy my teacher gave us a paper to write
She asked us to write a story last night
So I sat in my room and I heard you and daddy pray
So I decided to write about Jesus being born on Christmas day.

Mommy I told about how He had no place to lie.
I told about the star way up in the sky.
I told about Jesus healing the blind
And how Lazarus was called out of the tomb that time.

I told how they nailed Him to a tree.
And how they put a crown of thorns for His royalty.
I even told that He can save us from sin.
And how if we die, it won’t be the end.

Mommy I tried as hard as I could do
I wanted you to be proud and Jesus too.
But Mommy the teacher got angry and yelled at me.
She told me Jesus was not in our books of history.

So Mommy she wrote big letters in red.
I don’t understand everything that she said.
I only know Jesus lives in my heart day and night
And sometimes He whispers everything is alright.

His tears ran down his soft little pink cheeks.
He stood like a soldier who had been punished for weeks.
I wrapped my arms around him then I sat down to look
At the paper his teacher had made into a coloring book.

Then I took that paper and I folded it nice and neat.
We both sat together praying on our family loveseat.
Then I wrote a note on the paper just like God said.
Hoping the note would the next day be read.

This is what God told me write to the teacher that day.
He said ” If any one ask you who told you to write that story
You tell them it was Jesus Christ Your Only Blessed Hope of Glory.”
I did as He said but this isn’t the end of this story.

The teacher read the note I understand the next day.
God pricked her heart is all I can say.
For the school teacher died that night and her soul called away.
So, If you mistreat His little ones, there will be a great price to pay.

Written by Sybil Shearin
(c) 9-2004
All Rights Reserved
Standing With the Son!

This entry was posted on 232317H Jan 2011 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.

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