© 2007, "bogletown.freewebspace.com" - used with permission
My Brother; My King
My brother, Jesus, is older than me;
Though we are both children it's plain to see
That we're as different as chalk from cheese;
I quarrel and fight; He advocates peace.
While I am at play He wanders away
Preferring to spend the cool of the day
Talking to Himself (or so it may seem);
A sensitive youth; a dreamer of dreams.
We're young men now; both strong and tall
He is so pure; I belong to the Fall.
He never does anything sinful; bad
He doesn't get jealous, nasty or mad.
Oftentimes at our carpenter's bench
He'd explain to me that He's come to quench
The thirst of all who desire to live;
That He has the power to heal; forgive.
We are grown men; we're wiser and older;
As time has passed He has become bolder -
Declaring; explaining to one and all
The need to repent; to answer God's call.
They taunted and beat and killed Him today,
His crucified body left on display
As 'proof' that He is not God but a man;
Jesus, the unblemished sacrificed Lamb!
My brother, my brother, I mourn Your death;
My heart near broke when you gave Your last breath.
How could this have happened to You, God's Son -
Jesus, the only true Innocent One?
An earthquake; a tear and the sky turns black,
Some graves burst open; their dead have come back -
A stone rolled away His body is gone;
Jesus is risen; the war has begun!
Jesus, my brother, is diff'rent from me;
Eyes opened by God are able to see
We certainly are not the same at all -
He is the King - and I His thrall.
~ Belinda van Rensburg ~
Copyright © 2009
All Rights Reserved
[ by: Belinda van Rensburg Copyright © 2009 ( email@example.com ) -- submitted by: Belinda van Rensburg ]
All Rights Reserved.