SMOOTH, WORN STONES

by LION'S EYE

When He came, no trumpets blew,
in the village no one knew.
Yet a universe proclaimed
this the coming of it's King.

As He grew into a man
years had roughened working hands,
knowing then this wood they shaped
would be forced those hands to break.

Walking by the surging waves
toughened men fell in His gaze.
Then when came a challenge true,
the footprints leaving were't just two

All along His sandal's route
the very earth yearned to cry out
yet the darkness made men blind
they couldn't seem His Light to find

Even when their very eyes
witnessed buried dead men rise,
saw the cripple's leaping gait,
still their hearts were filled with hate.

Smooth, worn stones were wet with blood,
making hard his crushing load,
then they felt His very Touch,
they alone knew He was Just.

Oh the heavens cried in pain
when they saw their Maker's shame,
Pureness taking all our sin,
yet forgiving, freeing men....

Weeping, hiding, filled with doubt,
those that followed heard a shout,
"We have seen Him near His tomb", ...
then He comes within their room.

Finally into blinded hearts
Light poured in to make them part
of this Plan eternally wrought
that His blood so precious, bought.


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