I’ve heard men say you never came to Bethlehem by night,
the shepherds heard no angels and the wise men saw no light.
Just images, which warm the soul
while the festive anthems roll,
but fading, leave behind a hole
in searching hearts like mine.
I’ve heard men say you never healed the sick, nor raised the dead,
that simple folk in Palestine were easily misled.
A trick we might term magical
was deemed by them a miracle –
which really does no good at all
to hurting hearts like mine.
I’ve heard men say you never truly died; perhaps your place
was taken by another man of similar build and face.
But if you did not die for me,
pay for my sins at Calvary,
then there is still no remedy
for straying hearts like mine.
I’ve heard men say they met with you, like Mary in the garden;
your unseen presence fills their lives with peace, joy and God’s pardon;
that all your word is history,
not some religious mystery;
and death shall have no victory
over ransomed hearts like mine.
22.09.2013
David Quin - Asia Link
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