For The Needs Of The Many
The Garden of Gethsemane was where the Saviour prayed...
Preparing faith for Calvary, He wept there, heart-dismayed...
Was this the night? Was this the hour? Was this the time for tears?
Was this the moment for God's power, God's love to cast out fears?
'When I consider the kingdoms and all the sovereign lands
And all the cherished wisdoms that are God's destined plans,
And let my heart and mind reflect on each damned sinful soul...
Then who am I, that I neglect the Lord of Fates' control?
When I consider slaves enchained, the sins that each can do
And all the evils that remained, evolving, ever new,
I mourn for future lives as well, like grains of sand that drift...
Then who am I, to break the spell, to grant a holy gift?
When I consider such a price, before me, yet unpaid,
The horror of the sacrifice, the contract to be made,
The dark despair when demons laugh and scoff at such a plight...
Then who am I, this epitaph, my final act to write?
When I consider pain and death, they make my blood to boil,
That they must take my final breath, as if their fitting spoil,
Yet I will win and live again! I will not leave them any...
Forgiveness offered to all men, for the needs of the many...'
Comments about this poem (For The Needs Of The Many by Denis Martindale )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley