Passion Sunday
O God,
The earth is giving birth again,
And it is Springtime.
Trees burst into bloom,
And the air is warm and sweet,
As if You were breathing on me again,
As you did on that first morning of the world.
It is hard
To turn my thoughts to death and dying
During Springtime
And meditate on the meaning
Of the cross.
It is painful to think of Jesus,
Who loved this life
As few ever had,
Being confronted with dying
Just when the hills
Were alive with flowers.
I think of Jesus
Breathing once more
The fragrance of Spring
Before he dies.
O God,
I remember all this,
And deep in the depths of my mind
I know this Man spoke
For all the love
I have always longed for,
But not enough to give
My trust to.
I know this Man
Spoke for all the truth
I have always wanted to hear
But not enough to live by.
O Lord,
Let the winter-time
Of my despair dissolve,
That I may stand once more
Beneath his cross
And breathe his promise.
By William Stephenson, Ph.D.