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Two ladders were leant
against either
side of Jesus'
old rugged cross;
Two disciples climbed
them to take
His dead body
down to its tomb.
They first pried loose
the nails hammered
into both
His wrists and feet,
First the feet, then wrists,
to the sound
of evil timbers
screaming as they
Grudgingly let go of each
spike of death,
inch by inch,
and one by one.
Then, with one disciple
supporting
Jesus' upper body,
and climbing down,
The other disciple did
likewise, supporting
His lower,
gently to the ground.
Holding Jesus so close,
He for whom
they until now
hid their support,
Having secretly longed
to feel His
ever warm embrace,
found cold instead.
The least they could do
now was to
show the world He
deserved much better.
How could they know
as they at
last pulled the shroud
across His body,
They'd see His face
again and hear
His voice say
"Peace be to you!"
Leaving Him laying there
in the dark,
with the stone rolled
into its sealed place,
How could they know
as they walked
back home with
hearts like lead,
Jesus would stand with
and their hearts
would forever
be glad.
John 20:19-29 |
