By The Gate Called Beautiful - Poem by Domenic Marbaniang
THERE'S A BEGGAR sitting by the gate called Beautiful,
And he needs more than just silver and gold;
The priests scoff by,
The rich walk by,
The people throng by,
The children ask why
This beggar's sitting by the gate called Beautiful.
There's a preacher coming to the gate called Beautiful,
And he ain't got any silver or gold;
But, he won't lie,
And, he won't shy;
For, he's the kinda guy
Who'll just stop by
This beggar sitting by the gate called Beautiful.
A priest gnarls by,
'Wretched beggars defacing the Temple! '
A vendor calls by,
'Come, you fella! Got any change of coins? '
A youth rocks by,
'Hey dude! Got good style ha; keep on rockin'! '
The beggar's not listenin',
He's eyes are on the preacher transfixed;
He stretches out his palm for alms;
The preacher grasps his arm,
'Silver and gold have I none, ' he says
But what I have I give to you;
In the name of Jesus of Nazareth,
Rise up and walk, I say to you! '
Boy, he jumps up and dances,
Cries, 'God's power touched my bones! '
The crowd cast baffled glances,
'Wasn't he a cripple a while ago! '
What a pulpit, O Master Carpenter,
You grant a fisherman who left his boat!
See how he blazes one fiery rhetoric,
One sermon wins 5000 souls!
The priests get angry,
The captain is mad,
They run down in hurry,
With Sadducees sad;
They all are sayin',
'What happened's very bad! '
They put them in prison,
They drag them to court,
They warn them 'Listen,
'Don't ever preach this sort! '
Ah, don't show them your paperguns,
They ain't some timid blokes;
They've seen their Master risen
From the dead to die no more!
Such were some events one day by the gate called Beautiful,
A beggar got more than just silver and gold;
The priests still cry,
The rich still sigh,
The people stop by,
The children ask why
There ain't any beggar by the gate called Beautiful!
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