The Sacrifice of Christ in the Words of a Poet

Image courtesy of bela_kiefer/freedigitalphotos.net

Image courtesy of bela_kiefer/freedigitalphotos.net

One of our church members recited a poem during service last Sunday.  He had known the poet, Mark Meadows, in high school, and he shared how Mark wrote and recited this poem with their church on the day he accepted Christ as his savior.  I listened to the words amazed at their simplicity and beauty and knew I wanted to share it here. I found out how to contact Mark Meadows, and he kindly gave me permission to share his poem on this blog.  Mark, also, indicated that he doesn’t mind if people share it, so feel free to pass this along to others.

All of Me

Oh Lord, here alone I stand
Reaching out to touch your nail scarred hand
I take myself back to the time that you were on that tree
Thinking, Lord, of the love and the blood you shed for me
All alone the cross you did carry
The men, they laughed, drank, and were merry
They didn’t understand, oh Lord, the reason you were here
Only few stood by with their eyes full of fear

They pressed hard that twisted, thorn filled crown
You knelt there Lord and didn’t utter a single sound
They took your hands, oh Lord, and nailed them to the beam
They took your hands, oh Lord, and split them at the seam
With right over left, bent slightly at the knee
They nailed your feet to that heavy, carved out tree
“Some Christ he is,” a man in the crowd was saying
As you hung there Lord, head bowed, you never stopped praying

You said to Mary, before all things could be done
Looking at John, you said “Woman behold thy son”
Your face grew pale and your mouth grew dry
“Just some water, and then I shall die…”
They gave you vinegar, Lord, instead you might drink
It was just about over, your body began to sink
It was black as night, there shone no sun
When you cried to the heavens, “It’s finished – Thy will be done!”

You did it for me, Lord, so that I might live
I owe you my life, Lord, which I gladly give
All you ask of me, Lord, is that I follow close to Thee
No less can I give when I think to the time you suffered on the tree.

Mark Meadows, 1979

at the Saline, Michigan Church of Christ

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