Jesus
I need you all to picture this,
in the garden something went amiss.
By His friend, He was betrayed,
His timely death, was not delayed.
On the cross the nails pierced His skin,
this was not because of His sin.
They placed a sign over His head,
'King of the Jews' was what it read.
From noon till three darkness fell over the land,
the blood dripping to the ground from His hand.
"Why forsake me?" He cried out,
His mind cleared of all doubt.
He knew this was all for you and me,
His death meant, we would be set free.
He took His last breath, giving up His spirit,
the last words at death, no one could hear it.
This was because of all the mocking and yelling,
people, listen to this true story I am telling!
The curtain in the temple was torn,
the day victory over death was born.
The ground began to tremble and shake,
the dead in tombs started to wake.
Some people knew then He was no fraud,
the centurion said, "Surely He was the Son of God."
Wrapping Him in linen cloth, they put Him in a tomb,
rolling in front a rock, blocking entry to the room.
It was on the third day,
they noticed the rock rolled away.
The angel said, "There is nothing to fear,
the body you look for is not here.
Really though, I wouldn't bother,
He is at the right hand of His Father."
We are told to go and spread this story,
only to give God all of the glory.
I am talking about my brother, Jesus,
it was his sacrifice that freed us.
I know this story sounds wild,
but now, I am God's child!
About this poem
Grace
Font size:
Written on March 01, 2011
Submitted by troyhoustonallen on April 12, 2022
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:39 min read
- 6 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKLMNNOOPQRRGGSSTT |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,509 |
Words | 331 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 38 |
Translation
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Jesus" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 14 Nov. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/124754/jesus>.
Discuss the poem Jesus with the community...
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In