When Christians speak of Christ The Lord
We know just how you feel
You get upset annoyed and bored
To You! He isn’t real
You’re blind my friend, you fail to see
You think God’s Lamb a lie
He wouldn’t die upon a tree
For such as you and I
We’re fools to you, we tend to bore
Our lives are void of fun
You just can’t wait to close the door
Or hope that soon we’re gone
You think us strange to speak of God
Yet cringe to hear of hell
Whilst deep inside you’re feeling odd
Though why? It’s hard to tell
You’re not the first to share this view
For I myself was blind
I thought of God the same as you
Till Jesus changed my mind
To selfish gain both night and day
I lived my life of sin
When Christ first called, I ran away
I wouldn’t let Him in
But then I saw Him on the tree
His arms for me held wide
Then once again He called to me
This time I couldn’t hide
My Saviour loved me then and now
He died for all my shame
And you my friend, if you would bow
He’d come to you the same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem