Denis Martindale Poems
* The Cross Of Christ
The jeering crowd like jackals stood,
To see what must be done.
Though once they thought this man was good,
They didn't see God's Son.
They called Him Rabbi, Teacher, Lord,
Yet now He was Rome's slave.
So all His claims were now ignored,
For who was He to save?
The nails were driven deep inside...
More drops of blood soon fell...
Once lifted, hoisted, crucified,
His life was just like Hell.
Torment and torture lay ahead.
His scourged back stung and bled and bled
As briars bruised His brain.
His mother wept each passing ...
Mary, Mother Of Jesus
In Roman times, when swords were raised,
And peace on Earth was rare,
There lived a girl now highly praised,
A girl beyond compare...
Her name was Mary, Joseph's love,
Betrothed, untouched by Man...
Who met an angel from above
Who then revealed God's plan!
'Young maiden, you are full of grace!