Yesterday

Yesterday I dug it out,
I hoped once more to sing
John Peterson's cantata,
simply called, "Behold Your King."
 
The music is so beautiful,
I love the way it plays;
The chords so rich, the voice so true,
it haunts my mind for days.
 
I'd played it while in high school,
knew it backwards, upside-down,
When all the churches gathered
and performed it for the town.
 
The choir director leaned on me
to act as her right hand,
"Pound out the tenors' part," she'd say,
and I would understand.
 
My fingers knew the piece by heart
but I found yesterday,
My heart welled-up so full of tears
until I couldn't play.
 
My trembling fingers faltered
where they crucify the Lord,
I found I started blubbering
and couldn't play the chord.
 
My eyesight was so blurry
that I couldn't read the score,
I had to stop and blow my nose
a dozen times or more.
 
What had changed since high school?
it all seemed so easy then,
I realized I'd been blase' ~
I'd never be again...
 
For now the Cross is personal
and evermore shall be,
Atrocities He suffered there,
He did it all for me.
 
The Father God loved Connie so
He sent His only Son,
And now when I depart this earth
my life has just begun!

~ Connie ~
 
"Instead of praise
He was worthy of,
We offered jeers
and we spurned His love:
Behold your dying King."
~John W. Peterson

[ by: Connie Hinnen Cook Copyright © 2006 (cjcook@mynewroads.com) -- from Connie Hinnen Cook ]