Originally posted on January 13, 2009.
I’ve been meditating for some time on the great ironies of Christ’s life and death. How amazing it is that the infinite God could experience fatigue, danger, pain, and even death. Yet, Christ, the God-man, experienced all of these and more. The following poem (awaiting a tune, and perhaps some final tweaks) wonders at these great mysteries.
Almighty slept—What irony!
Be awed by Christ’s humanity.
In cattle stall then violent storm
Almighty slept, first young, then worn.
Almighty slept—Who slumbers not!—
And God as man salvation brought.
Be struck by God’s fragility.
As mothers mourned and Herod schemed
Messiah fled, warned through a dream.
Messiah fled, yet at God’s time
Embraced the cross with joy sublime.
The Maker sweat—A mystery!
Be touched by His humility.
By toil fatigued and sin oppressed,
The Maker sweat that we may rest.
The Maker sweat great drops of red
To ponder death in sinners’ stead.
The Sov’reign wept—Such empathy!
Be moved by mourning majesty.
As once He grieved at Laz’rus’ tomb,
The Sov’reign wept with death-like gloom.
The Sov’reign wept in garden still,
Yet bowed before His Father’s will.
The Savior bled—Oh travesty!
Be pierced by Jesus’ agony.
As Satan raged and sinners scorned
The Savior bled—despised, forlorn.
The Savior bled for sin perverse
To vanquish sin and end the curse.