So tired with the heat and the height of their climbing,
now resting where eagles might shelter their young,
disciples had followed, but Jesus now left them,
to wander yet higher, compelled he went on.
And now in a light that transfigured their vision,
the one they called Master was standing alone,
and yet it appeared that some others stood with him,
in whiteness, in brightness, the clouds like a throne.
The dazzle was blinding for those who were watching,
but then it seemed Jesus was heading back down,
the vision had faded, the moment was passing,
Messiah they’d called him who shunned any crown;
until on a hilltop, mid rubbish and slander,
this ‘king’ was hung out in the sun, set to dry;
crossed out between those others deemed rough and worthless,
the poor and discarded for whom he would die.
To those who had hung him, he offered forgiveness,
a crucified robber was paradise bound;
the poor he exalted, the widow, the stranger,
found love in this preacher who turns lives around.
Andrew E Pratt
Words © 2018 Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England copyright@stainer.co.uk . Please include any reproduction for local church use on your CCL Licence returns. All wider and any commercial use requires prior application to Stainer & Bell Ltd
Metre: 12 11 12 11
Tune: STREETS OF LAREDO
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