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Easter Rememberance

by Kris Chen © 2015

You gave me life,
my soul preserved.
From grace bestowed,
and not deserved.

You gave your life,
upon a tree.
A crown of thorns,
in agony.

A Light to shine,
the world to see.
A love divine,
in victory.

My sin so heavy,
a world of hate.
The nails so sharp,
that sealed your fate.

Your stripes are many,
my sins not few.
Your mercy endless,
my life anew.

Your precious blood,
in all was shed.
To cover my sin,
and the ground in red.

Two sinners in shame,
did share the same plight.
One on Your left,
One on Your right.

Two desperate calls,
were made by a thief.
One in dismay,
one in belief.

A choice always given,
no matter how late.
To repent in great sorrow,
or a life reprobate.

Remember me Lord,
when thou comest down.
To gather your children,
a place to be found.

His Love without end,
the Door to the Way.
In Paradise with Me,
your soul be today.

Three hours in darkness,
a land in great shock.
The Shepard did hang,
for His dear flock.

His voice called out,
but chose to stay.
As the Father cried,
and looked away.

My God, My God…
hast thou forsake?
Your back did turn,
but your hand did take.

The scripture fulfilled,
in thirst he spoke.
A sponge…a reed,
in vinegar soaked.

His work now finished,
our sin on His post.
He bowed His head softly,
and gave up the Ghost.

An act of love,
a life well spent.
A curtain bold,
but now is rent.

This man of Light,
a site to dread.
The Son of God,
this day is dead.

A gift most precious,
made free by His strife.
The cost to us…nothing,
the cost to Him…Life.

A ransom well paid,
your sin a great price.
His love never-ending,
A Lamb's sacrifice.

The body was begged,
the cloth a womb.
Laid to rest,
the cave a tomb.

A stone was rolled,
the door was shut.
In it fell,
a massive cut.

Three days to work.
Three days to wrest.
Three days to witness.
Three days to press.

Two women did visit,
the grave at morn.
With spices and prayer,
their hope forlorn.

A burden so heavy,
their hearts did shake.
An angel from heaven,
a great earthquake.

The stone was rolled back,
no words can suffice.
The Way is now Open,
the Truth and the Life.

Sorrow is now gladness.
Pain is now cheer.
Death is but a memory,
Life is now clear.

Imaginations cast down,
from knowledge enticed.
Our thoughts now captive,
to the obedience of Christ.

A thought in disgrace.
His life He did give,
Just for me to say “no”,
so another can’t live.

Jesus is Lord,
your heart to say “yes”.
Every knee shall bow,
every tongue shall confess.

So the next time you feel,
the Spirit that doth call.
To witness to those,
with such a downfall.

Remember your Christ,
who hung on that tree
and died in disgust,
for you and for me.

Picture His face,
the shake of His head.
His sadness of heart,
the spear that did spread.

The nails that did pierce,
the pain so intense.
God’s way to make righteous,
at Christ’s own expense.

But time is now short,
the hour is far past.
The fields are now white,
a harvest so vast.

The laborers are few,
The need is so great.
A world without pity,
to love without hate.

For the trumpet will sound.
Sky Eastern will break.
The children of Light
in Christ He will take.

The graves will be opened.
The ground will He shake.
The wheat will be sifted.
The tares will He brake.

On a white horse,
One Faithful and True.
To judge and make war,
in righteousness new.

His eyes are bright red,
His tongue a sharp sword.
His name in large letters,
the serpent abhorred.

The books are now opened,
my ledger found clear.
Made white by His Blood,
with praise do I cheer.

My soul is secure,
in Jesus He took.
My name written down,
in that Glorious Book!

Eye hath not seen,
ear hath not heard.
The wondrous promise
of God’s Holy Word.

But no tear can be found,
in eye nor in face.
For He wiped them away,
with His love and His grace.

A reward not earned,
no moth and no rust.
An inheritance now given
by God’s Holy trust.

My robe is now white.
My crown is now gold.
His robe is now scarlet,
both tattered and old.

The circle of gold,
He gave for my head.
I cast at His feet,
His glory instead.

My fingers do touch,
His hands and His feet.
The hole in His side,
the blood that did seep.

The saints are all present,
His Word is alive.
His Promise fulfilled,
His Glory revived.

A table is waiting,
a place is reserved.
My name in tall writing,
a chair now deserved.

But the chair He gave up,
to hang on that tree.
That seat is now taken
No end shall there be.

His Wonder, His Beauty,
His Brilliance, His Light.
His Glory, His Grandeur
His Power, His Might.

Praising Him boldly,
as forever I sing.
My Lord of Lords,
and my King of Kings!

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