Jesus, King of The Jews!

He stood six feet tall a masculine sun tanned man
He grew up walking the paths in the Holy Land.
His hair fell to his shoulders in a curl here and there.
He worked as a carpenter and gave us the Lord’s prayer.
His eyes fell softly upon those He healed from disease and pain.
He performed miracles that still no human can begin to explain.
He wore a robe made of precious silk threads
Made by the hands of Mary his mother between her baking of breads.
His feet wore sandals and were dusty and tired
His needs were modest and earthly riches He never desired
His hands were soft as He touched the blind man’s eyes.
The Holy Spirit rested upon Him like a dove decending from the skies.
He preached the Gospel so a little child could understand
He even called them to sit on His knee and to hold His hand.
His heart was broken for few really His word believed
Salvation He gave free but few have received.
His voice was soft and He spoke with great authority
Yet He walked and ate with the poor and the minority.
His hands were bound by political mens rope.
Their eyes could not see He was and still is our Blessed Hope.
He hung upon the old rugged cross
He paid the debt for all man’s sin yet suffered no loss.
For He built a bridge you and I could simply walk across.
He died and rose again and was seen by many.
So your Salvation Mister won’t cost you a penny.
He sits now at the right hand of His Father just waiting
And He is coming again just like the Bible is stating.
Are you really willing to play just one more day.
And miss Salvation and in Hell eternally stay?
He is still today our ONLY Blessed Hope of Glory.
This comes from the Bible inspired by chosen men a true Gospel Story.
All of this happened because of mans sin.
And man stands guilty before God from beginning to end.
So listen my friend as I plead to you now.
He is coming back for His people and before Him every knee shall bow.
Today is the day of Salvation His voice calls softly still.
It is still that soft whisper calling to the whosoever will.
Turn the pages of the book of life my friend; just look and see
Where will your soul spend eternity?

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

This entry was posted on 232320H 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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