Reprising an earlier poem called: On that day…
On that day
There will be some who run to Him,
To tell Him of their great sacrifice,
And of how they shed their blood for Him.
They will boast of their unshakable faith,
And of many hours spent in fervent prayer,
And of how they despised His enemies,
And of the many they despatched to hell.
And in their breathless excitement,
They will await their reward…
On that day
There will be some who will walk calmly,
Amused at the exuberance of their followers,
And will wait their turn to approach Him.
They will tell Him how they masterminded
Great victories against the blasphemers,
And inspired many to give their lives for Him.
And in their calculating minds,
They will await their reward…
On that day
A little child, maimed beyond recognition,
Will be unable to come to Him,
By-passed in the stampede of the righteous.
The child will cry in pain and anguish,
Being frightened, confused and alone.
And He, listening, will hear the child’s cry,
And take the wounded little body to Himself.
Then will He turn to the righteous and say:
“I may be some time…”