Poetry

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He came down to this sinful earth
Bequeathing His heavenly abode;
In a manger, by His humble birth
His seeds of love, for us, were sowed.

He searched for us, high and low
The Shepherd’s cry – for His flock;
Oh! hearken unto His voice mellow
Resounding over hill and vale.

“Your name, My child, is written in red
Upon My bosom, for eternity;
By My blood, which was shed
On the cross, at Calvary."

He healed us by His holy stripes
And, cleansed us of our iniquities;
Yet, we paid Him back, with our snipes
And cried for – ‘Barabbas, unto us.’

He’s reached out to us across the eons
Swathed us in His loving mercy;
Yet, do we still call upon -
‘Barabbas, Barabbas, unto us’?

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