My Jesus Poems
Apparently written in Istanbul, Dec 1963
In a letter forwarded by little sister Marjorie, Feb, 2013

I Stood Where Jesus Stood

I stood where Christ stood,
I sat within His cell;
And at the Garden Rock
I felt His sad tears well.
I knelt before the Pillar,
His only friend when whipped;
I brooded in the Judgement Room
And felt how cheaply He’d been gypped.
I walked His road to Calvary,
And felt the weight that was His cross,
And I learned humility
On a path that had been blocked.
I kissed the star that marks the spot
Where my Saviour died,
And emotions filled me, oh, so full,
No strength remained even to have cried.
I dropped my brow on Jesus’ tomb,
Too confused to pray;
But then, like Him, I rose again,
My role in life to play.

— — —

Sunset Over Jerusalem

O’er Jerusalem the sun sets e’er in blood,
As though the Christ were dying still,
A rosy fire illuminates the hill,
A constant flow of Calvary flood.

For as long as Arab faces Jew
Each with safety catch uncocked,
And brother’s way to brother
By infamous wall is blocked,
Sunset brimstone hangs with fire
To spread aflame once more
A Sodom and Gomnorrah
By an angry God twice pricked and sore.

O’er Jerusalem the sun sets e’er in blood,
As though the Christ were dying still,
A rosy fire illuminates the hill,
A constant flow of Calvary flood.

— —
I wrote My Jesus poems while waiting for our money to arrive, mailed them off in the endless letters I wrote on our travels “circumnavigating the Med,” and forgot about them. It was most unexpected when my sister mailed them to me. Poor Middle East.
Happy Easter everybody.