Barbara Notestine Moulder
Our Son - Your Son
Oh Lord, what lesson would you teach me now?
As low, beneath this burden I do bow
A heart near breaking, crying out for our son's life
Struggling to surrender and be free from strife.
To see the suffering of one so loved
Helpless, but serene and still
Submitting to the pain that man inflicts
Tears held at bay, one's bosom, terrors fill.
Yours was such a loving Father saw
The nail pierced hands and feet.
Agony etched the sky when you must turn away
No sin to see, borne that day by your son
On rugged Calvary.
Into your hands, we too commend our son!
The safest place he could ever be
As your son commended his own spirit on that day
Knowing, even as you turned away, you loved him still.
And we, though suffering takes its toll
Know full well, your tears do freely flow
Mingling with ours, and all whose painful path is laid
And yet Rejoice, knowing too . . . Sin's debt is Paid!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Our Son - Your Son by Barbara Notestine Moulder )
- Mountain Parkway, Stacy L. Mar
- Alabama Truck Stops, Stacy L. Mar
- Of Supernovas and Starfire, Stacy L. Mar
- Of You, Who Do Not Know Me, Stacy L. Mar
- The Wind Blowing Backwards, Stacy L. Mar
- Metrazol, Luke J. Holt
- Sliding Into Old Shoes, Stacy L. Mar
- Like Fallen Gods, Stacy L. Mar
- All We Are, Stacy L. Mar
- To John, Roger A. Rose
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(22 March 1941 -)