Saturday, 19 April 2008

Pasture Man

Love would hold him in His hands,
a man whose field of knowledge spans
across the cultures of the lands
whose heart and soul He understands.

And Love would choose this lowly one
of humble heart, a fallen son
and one whose felt the pain of loss
whose slept in fields of stone and moss.

And brought him to this place of rest
where he can ponder what is best
to build his home with rusty nail
or lose the things which can't avail?

To spend his time in search of that
which fills the hollow places, at
the moment of his greatest need
a root broke through that tiny seed.

A drop of water from the sky
had reached the ground and fed the rye
which grew into the Living bread
and fed the famine in his head.

And Love would fill his hungry soul
with simple Truth, a burning coal
and from this rock, pure streams will flow
the living water makes men whole.

We, like sheep, have gone astray
each one wanders his own way
it's freedom call and so, what if
our freedom calls from yonder cliff?

The grass is tall, it waves hello
while waves crash on the rocks below
the Pasture man, he knows the land
and saves his friends from sinking sand.

He leaves the rest to find the few
who've wandered out to catch a view
of life beyond the broken fence
a man feels loved and then repents.

1 comment:

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