When I was at school, I was known for many things, but NEVER for my poem-writing. "That's nice dear, but it's supposed to rhyme", one teacher told me, or "That really isn't
in iambic pentameter", another pointed out. Truth be told, I never really cared about writing in iambic pentameter - firstly learning how to spell it, then enjoying it in Shakespeare and finally finding situations in which I could say that delightful phrase were all I really cared about regarding poetry. In fact, having written the words 'iambic pentameter' three times in one paragraph has given me an odd satisfaction!
Imagine, then, my surprise when during creative worship tonight in my cell group God gave me a few lines underneath a drawing that turned into a poem. Once I became aware of what He was trying to do, I said to Him: "Now, really, Lord - you know I don't do well with p
oetry". "That's okay", He replied, "you're not writing this one, I am." I decided I would be wise to not argue with the Lord and thus came about this poem:
The height, the width, the depth, the breadth,
The good, the bad, the thick and thin
What was, what is, what is to come
By His death is all undone.
He lived, He breathed, He died for you
There's naught that you must do.
That's all you need to know, my friend.
That's all you need to know.
"Father, forgive them," Jesus said;
"For they know not what they are doing".
Even on that cross He was
Our loving, Holy King.
Said to His Father, "Take this cup"
"I want not what it contains".
But He bore it all, that truth you see
To this day still remains.
On the day that Jesus rose
The angels, they did sing.
All in heaven, with one voice proclaimed:
"Jesus Christ is KING!"
