The Sick Jesus [poem]

The Sick Jesus

My Jesus, why are you sick?
“You’re doing well,
But have doused thy wick.”

But Lord, why is your stomach so upset?
I mean Lord, there’s nothing I regret

Sick, Lord? Maybe it’s something you ate
The cookies at our Church are really great!

The praises, the prayers
What could be wrong?
“My son, the song in your heart
has not yet been sung…

Some think I’m demanding
Waiting with a stick
But shallowness to My love
Is what makes me sick”

Sing your song
And run in the race
Declare it the world
Right to its face!

[ by: Robb Gorringe ]

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