I now know why that cross was heavy,
Heavier, even, than bars of lead!
With sinful eyes, I look up and see
My Savior! On a tree hanging dead.
Down a lonely, hateful, friendless path
He walked, He toiled, He made His love shown.
He was made a prey to sullen wrath,
He staked His claim to what is His own.
He, the white Sheep, the Lord and the King;
He served as a slave, suffered such fate.
To Golgotha, He walked, heart aching.
By that act, we were granted the Gate!
I look up and see, there on that cross,
My own misdeeds glaring down at me.
My lies, my doubts, my appalling flaws,
Yes! They were why that cross was heavy!
You, brother! Do you not behold this?
Our horrid deeds, and He who bears them?
And yet we act like nothing's amiss,
We, men who know nothing of torment!
YOU ARE READING
Read my Heart - A Collection of Poetry
PoetryThis is partly a journal and partly a literary endeavor. Herein, between the covers lie all of my dreams and art: my tales of friends and lovers. If you please, oh! Read my heart!
