Who is this Man?

Who is this man, torn and broken?
Forgotten, spit upon, heart broken
Thought of not and cast aside
Oh, how could one abide?
Crying and pleading evermore
Feebly falling to the floor
Looking hopefully to his side
For that Man that´ll ever guide.
Paying the Price to help the Heathen
Crying for fear to never ´gain see´em.

Who was this man who had to learn?
Line upon line he´d ever yearn.
Looking for that to come.
Yet mocked for being ever too young.
Never able to escape the Pagan
He hungered for that glorious Haven.
Knowing exactly who he´d become
With all that in between long gone.
Yet in his heart would ever burn
For that Truth he´d yet to earn.


On the Mount this man shall stand.
With all his might he´ll break the band
Of the death which holds him tight
Ever dispersing the True Light
The Man of Christ to hold his Cross
Yet never able to see across
The veil of God which holds his sight.
Paying the Price of a Widow´s Mite.
And with all his might, he can
Help those who dwell within his Hand.

And through the Looking Glass I see
That this man was always me!
Even through all the pain and guile
I can see it was worth my while.
And all that I must surly know
Never learned before life´s first snow.
Yet that Abiding Man to guide
He´ll pull me gently to His side,
And to my Soul His words intone
“Well done my Son, for Thee I did Atone”