THE PILGRIM

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Hanging there in our morbid shame,

Suffering the sweetness of redemptive pain,

Between two pitiful wayward children,

Behold the Master's own appointed Pilgrim

Turning the key to the Kingdom's door,

Showing the way that we all must go.

 

Seeing the wretched gather around

He leaked His life fluid to the ground

And longed for dampness on his lip

While granted not one single sip

Still, pitying ignorant daughters and sons,

He forgave us the awful deed we'd done.

 

Then, while baking in the day's hot sun,

Even as we cheered the wrong we'd done,

 

He knew there was so much we did not know

And He planted a seed to help us grow

Then, giving His Father back His breath,

He paused to visit a fleeting death.