Here is another poem from ‘Come all ye weary‘. Pre-book now to get a 20% discount for when the book releases early next year.

How could it be 
That on this wretched land
The Holy One was pleased 
To extend his healing hand?
Where not one was pure 
In their tongue or deed
Dead in our sin 
Like dry bones for demons feed.
Hatred and hostility were 
Our tributes to this King
Our hearts like catacombs 
With nothing good to bring.
The light was our enemy, 
Revealing what we concealed
His glory threatened our darkness, 
Once for all, sealed.
Those who dwelt in darkness 
Had seen a great light
Yet we could not recognise him, 
Sin blinding our sight.
Brighter than the sun, 
Wrapped in swaddling clothes
While we were yet sinners, 
Descended Heaven’s rose.

How could it be 
That the Lord of heaven and earth
Was laid in a lowly manger 
Upon his long foretold birth?
The King whose robes 
Had filled the heavenly temple
Now cradled his head 
In the arms of the simple.
The light of the world 
Stepped down into darkness
To turn our hearts 
That were seared by our sinfulness.
Born to us, the true 
And better Adam was he
Who failed not to keep 
His Father’s word so that we
Could be the generation 
Of those who are born again
Our former resistance 
And hostility to God now slain.
For thus God loved us 
That he gave his begotten Son
That we who believe in him 
Shall eternal life have won.

How could it be 
That the Prince of Peace was bruised
With thorns and sticks, 
And a cross not refused?
Pleased to be numbered 
Among those that were lost
He found them and kept them 
By paying a high cost 
Forsaking to grasp
The high dignity of divinity 
He clothed himself with flesh 
Adorned in humility
Christ hungered and toiled 
In the world he created
Although to God he was 
And is always equated
Even to the cross, 
He obeyed the will of his Father
From the ends of the earth, 
From every tribe to gather
Those whom he chose 
To redeem from sin’s seduction
By bearing their sin 
And drinking of God’s destruction.

How could it be 
The stone is forever removed
From the grave of those 
Who descend with Christ?
O Death where is your sting, 
Where is your victory?
For the Lamb has risen, 
The author of history
Raising us with him 
For the eternal rewards
In full assurance, 
We strive as faithful stewards.
He walked up to the Ancient Doors 
And knocked
As all creation in heaven stood 
Riveted, shocked
No man had ever come this far 
Or touched this wall.
But when his voice was heard, 
The thunderous call
“Open you Ancient Doors 
For the King of Glory to enter”
Heaven opened to all 
For whom Christ is the centre.