OLD MANSION

Somewhere in your town
On some high hill
Survives an old mansion
Shuttered and still

Symbol of prestige
Symbol of power
Who now remembers,
Its finest hour?

Wooden shingles in tatters
No longer shelter a storm
Floors of the ballroom
Are sagging and worn

Where is the man
Who owned this splendor?
Hard was the heart
He refused to surrender

Of what value his name,
He so proudly wore?
Gone is the applause
He’ll hear it no more

A grave so deep
With a monument so tall
Wealth now worthless
Even the proud must fall!

When the trumpet sounds
And he awakens from the grave
Will he inherit a new mansion,
or forever be Satan’s slave?

Gethsemane

The Lord is in the garden, weeping --
prostrate, anguished -- all alone.
Not far away His friends are sleeping,
using pillows made of stone.

There in the darkness, time is fleeting --
racing toward His destiny.
His weary voice is heard repeating,
Father, take this cup from Me.

More fervently the Lord is pleading --
mouthing words without a sound.
From sorrow, He has started bleeding
crimson droplets on the ground.

Disciples -- one by one -- awaken.
Jesus tells them as they stand,
The Son of Man will soon be taken.
Rise, the hour is at hand.

Bright torches in the distance -- nearing;
shouts and voices pierce the night.
Then Judas walks into the clearing --
soldiers to his left and right.

To Judas and the crowd behind him
Jesus asks, Whom do you seek?
All eyes await the sign to bind Him --
Judas kisses Jesus’ cheek.

A glint of steel -- a blade is wheeling --
Peter cuts off someone’s ear.
A call for peace -- a touch of healing,
Jesus’ friends run off in fear.

Surrounded by the priests and soldiers --
centered in His Father’s will.
The world’s weight upon His shoulders --
stretched out on Golgotha's hill.

The Very Last Time

Could I be like mother?
Do I have the time?
She seemed so angelic
and seemed so sublime.

We all have to work
for days at a time.
A difficult struggle
and very hard climb.

I labored and slaved
through years of hard time.
I scratched for - and saved it,
but it was a crime.

And focused on God? No.
I lost it in time.
His will, not my purpose,
but dollar and dime.

I now live for Jesus.
I give Him my time.
My life of enjoyment,
completed in rhyme.

But now I see mom for
the very last time.
I turn from her casket
...and hear the bell chime.