A very poignant and evangelistic poem …
(by Elizabeth Burke, 2004, printed with permission)
One cloudy restless Sabbath Day,
I went in search of where he lay.
So pensively I picked my way,
Past ancient headstones and decay.
Celtic crosses in the mist,
Coloured gravestones, raindrop-kissed,
Crying curlew overhead,
Wooden crosses, unknown dead.
The old, the young, the rich, the poor,
A child, a babe…. a grief to endure;
A nobleman, a pauper, a puritan, a thief:
Death knows no boundary, and nor doth grief.
Who were these within their day,
Whose bodies now lie clothed in clay?
Were they told, or did they see
That Jesus died all souls to free?
And then I thought on the living-dead,
For whom His precious blood was shed,
And how I wished that they could be
Joyful, saved, from sin set free.
Oh, how I longed to talk with him,
Before the flickering light grew dim,
But hope had drowned in the Great Forever,
Where land and riches matter never.
So, brother, sister we must go –
Tell loved-one, neighbour, friend and foe,
For how can we so silent be…
If we love the Author of Eternity?
by Elizabeth Burke (used with permission)
Matthew 10:32-33 Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.