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Poem

i
HEAD OF THY CHURCH TRIUMPHANT

You left Heaven,Your excellent Abode above.
You took upon Yourself the bodily garments of mortal man,
Came down into this world, this earth 
Bereft of pure joy and eternal sweet communion.
You left the precious gel,the blissful ointment,
The long-lasting fragrance which spontaneously 
Exudes around Your Father's glorious Throne.

When Your arrival here was duly announced
By Your birth, wicked and cruel men
Your death sought to establish
Fickle-minded,feeble-hearted coys
With evil-intent, devil-portent ploys
Your prime agenda and mission tried 
To plunge into pre-mature disillusion.

ii
NO POWER CAN CONQUER SPIRIT DIVINE

Robed with the spirit of humility,You thrived on
In hard work, labouring, toiling on;
Like a huge fruitful tree existing there...there
By the side of a pleasant mighty river,until infinity.

The perfect prize You paid for all men
For their souls' redemption
You knotted everlasting espousal ties 
Seeking to turn them into exquisite gems
Befitting and suitable
For a constant Bride.

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