The Cross of Love
There is a wooden cross;
Upon a lonely hill;
Which had been used once;
And, is being used still.
Its just a rugged cross,
In no way precocious, or grand.
It has a stain on the cross-beam;
Which is the blood from some man’s hand.
It was just from a human being;
Only doing what He knew was right;
But, was the cause of so many to stand
In vigil; throughout that night.
He didn’t lay claim to earth’s riches,
Nor did He wish for fame.
Its His Pure Love for His Father in Heaven,
That we mostly remember His name.
He died, not in glory of battle
With no horse, nor protection of armour;
But for humanities mis-deeds and mistakes
And did not receive a medal of honour.
His earthly body rose through the ranks, to Pure Love
As he’d given cry to this Prayer;
“Thy Will, not mine, must be done this night-
Thy Will be done now, to put things right”
(But, who remembers now, and who really cares?)
That cross is continually used
With daily repeated performance
He’s represented through each one of us
Till that light of Pure Love streaming down from above
Heads straight to the muck and the mire;
Then each heart of each soul can fulfil the desire of-
Being at Peace - not at odds with each other and accepting
Who they are: What they do
Not complaining of creed; nor of colour.
It’s the flesh, that’s the cup of the Grail!
What lies within it is precious and Pure, knowing we too;
Will be viewing the glorious goal, through the battle of Self-Will;
As, we live our lives without seeing the beauty,
Within Lilly and Poppy, or that shame of the cross on the hill.
A United Family of Humanity stands now;
On the brink of insanity,
As it’s lower form cries out to the eye of the gathering storm-
“Thy Will, not ours, must be done from today”,
So, the cross on the hill, remaining there still-
Finally re-kindles that Fire, of Original Desire
From our Souls; yours and mine will soon say;
“Thy Will, not mine must be done this day, Lord-
Thy Will - not mine, from this day”
(©Brenda Grubb 17/3/2010)
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