The Disciple

            I saw him
            Walking towards me.
            So this was "Him."
            The great "Messiah"
            Tall and strong.
            He stood a man of beauty,
            But a Savior?
            There hovered 'round
            His robe
            Of the lowest kind.
            He comes nearer;
            I'll pretend not to see.
            He walks with me
            And stands within
            The silent walls of memory
            In Grandeur and
            In Majesty. . .
            Oh, had I not raised my eyes
            To see Him!
            The rushing sea
            In all its power
            Caught my being.
            To face
            He looked inside my soul.
            My knees did tremble,
            My hands shook.
            His presence
            Hurled me through the sky.
            He smiled
            And softly touched my shoulder.
            His Spirit brushed my mind
            And for an instant,
            I saw
            The Son of God
            And could not walk away. . .

[ Author Unknown -- Submitted by: Mary Ann Steadman ]


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