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
People,
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.
Face
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 ]