The little man,
Curled in a ball,
Short time span,
Checkups to stall.
It's a boy,
All others cheer,
Forming the joy,
To hold him dear.
The day is here,
To go into shock,
Wipe sweat as fear,
Little ears to sweet talk.
Loud but tender,
Smiles from Mom,
Loved ones surrender,
Keeping him calm.
Delicate soft skin,
Of all the could of been,
Mom and Dad,
Exhausted but ready,
New arrivals to add,
New things to keep steady.
Copyright © Stacey Behal | Year Posted 2013
The land was cloaked in a black dress,
The crowd was watching my Christ die,
When the blinding darkness, the deafening stillness
Was shattered by an overwhelming cry;
Resonating, reaching up to heaven across-
A cry in anguishful agony,
My Saviour crying on the cruel cross-
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?"
A cry so terribly travailing,
Rose from the Man on Calvary,
As it did that day, it's still echoing,
His pain for us on the cursed tree;
A cry so awful, alarming and sore,
Was never heard throughout history,
'Twas a loneliness never felt before,
A never to be understood mystery;
A cry so drastic, disturbing and glum,
Reflected His melancholic dismay-
So great, none can ever fathom,
His Father in Heaven had looked away.
The cry in the cradle was forgotten,
When the cry of the cross I heard,
A cry that showed He was smitten,
First by God, then man, lingered;
That crushing cry broke my heart,
As I visualised Him God-forsaken,
Only to give me a joyous start,
True eternal life- of which I've partaken.
That cry has made me happy today,
The cry of my Saviour on the cross,
I can shout and sing, I can praise and pray,
I can confidently cry that He's my boss.
What did you, since hearing that cry?
A cry cried to make you smile;
Did you cry along? or plain deny
That that cry could make your life worthwhile?
A mute spectator, did you stand beholding?
Or wagging your heads, you passed Him by?
Or did you hark, halt and with your hands folding,
Realise His Sonship and glorify?
Did you consider what cost Christ paid?
Can you imagine His speechless suffering?
Sinless, for us, He was sin made,
Gave Himself as a voluntary offering.
When the Son of God cried aloud,
His Father would not hear;
'Twas so, we could become His proud
Sons and daughters dear;
The cast-off cry was not the end though,
All was yet not finished nor done,
For my Jesus cried again, you know,
From God's wrath, to save everyone;
The hours of darkness had passed away,
The Son addressed His Father above,
He was reconciled the very same day,
And so were we, just accept it now;
Willingly, for us, He was sacrificed,
That we could be bought by His blood;
For all our sins, His death sufficed,
For us, He rose again from the dead;
With eyes of faith, look at that Love,
Who bled to death for you and me,
With faith-filled ears, listen to how
He cried and died, to set us free.
Copyright © Jo Daniel | Year Posted 2016