Your Face Poem by Gert Strydom

Trough the ages
art has made an image of You,
where You are along with your mother,
where You hang exhausted
on a deadly cross

and artists tried to catch
Your face and body,
so as if man can reflect Your love

and in the evening when I kneel at my bed,
You are my friend that talks to me,
who strips me of all evil and hatred
but still I do not know Your face

and when You appear at Your return
I will not need Your glory, to recognize You,
to lie my life down at Your feet

as Your character will be etched into Your being,
will be etched with selfless love
into Your face.