Piano and Girl


          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 ]


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