My Son
I could feel the uneasiness in the air,
With every word the people would swear.
With every shout my heart shred,
But His love just spread.
With tears pouring down my face,
From His heart poured grace.
All the hurt I felt,
Yet, He endured all the sins and stripes He was dealt.
With His Blood that was shed,
He gave life to the dead.
While upon that old cross He hung,
On the ground I was flung.
As I screamed out in my own agony,
He was held in infamy.
As He cried out, “It is finished”,
The leaders thought the chaos would be diminished.
As the sky turned dark and the earth did quake,
I felt my God did me forsake.
While buried in the earth,
Little did I know, what was about to birth.
The gates of hell He opened wide,
A new way He did provide.
Three days later He arose,
And threw to Satan, death blows.
At the first rays of light,
I ran to the sight.
Expecting my Son to find,
Instead, only His burial garments He left behind.
An angel of God stood there,
And said, "He has risen, go share.”
As fast as my feet could fly,
I just had to go testify.
My Son is alive,
And redemption He did provide.
©Deborah Seale Schnadelbach
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