The Greatest Poet Who Ever Lived Poem by Denis Martindale

Upon Golgotha's gruesome mount
That men called Calvary,
The man who told all men to count
The cost paid that for me...
For here am I, His witness now,
Partaking of His tale,
To see the crown of thorns on brow,
Upon the Lord so frail...

I, with the crowd, behold the man,
Yet tears fall from my eyes,
For I perceived God's awesome plan,
Was doomed to realise...
For I held back the hidden fists
That yearned to strike their blows
Against each Roman who resists
The righteous King God shows...

While prophecies beyond compare
Proved Jesus as God's best,
Close to Christ's Mother, Mary, there,
I heard each word expressed...
My mortal frame transfixed that day,
A statue cold as stone,
To parallel as God must stay,
Still watching from His Throne...

A deathly chill pervaded here,
Within my troubled heart,
For would God's Son face all His fear
Or would God's Son depart?
To vanish from our tearful eyes,
To disappear at will,
Or still remain, God's sacrifice,
The Lamb of God to kill...

I saw Him suffer, bleed and die,
All hope died in me, too,
I knew but half the reason why,
Till truths stepped into view...
Then suddenly, the prophecies
Released new hope again,
The likes of which brought certainties
Refreshing sinful men...

When Good News came Christ was alive,
I wept just like a child,
Not just in knowing He'd survive,
But God had reconciled...
With resurrection, Christ was proved
The Lamb of God and more,
To show that God was truly moved
To mercy based on law...

The substitution, soul for soul,
The perfect life for ours,
The ultimate in self-control
Upon His Cross for hours...
The faith it took to see it through
Until the very end,
Lord Jesus died, for me, for you...
Behold, the Sinner's Friend...

And now, as years have come and gone,
I preach Good News to all,
Revealing light the Lord has shone
On those who hear God's call...
The call of Calvary that was,
The call of Christ the Lord,
The King of Love upon His Cross,
The Saviour men ignored...

But mark this well, my witness stands,
Though whipped, I won't forget,
Though put in prison, bonds on hands,
I serve without regret...
My pains aren't worth the time to pray,
Compared with all Christ's tears...
So I still preach each precious day,
With poems through the years...