The One Who Gathered The Scattered Poem by Haile Tesfaye

The sons of Judah marvelled sore,
"Shall Gentile feet pass through this door?
Shall they, who knew not Abraham's name,
be gathered near by holy flame? "

Yet He, the purest Jew who trod
beneath the burning eyes of God,
Rabbi of Truth, of Grace, of Light,
called far-off nations to His sight.

He came first to Israel's fold,
to sheep long lost, to prophets old;
His Twelve were sons of covenant dust,
entrusted first with Heaven's trust.

Then forth from Zion's wounded ground
their witness shook the nations round;
what Israel heard, the world received,
and Gentile hearts in Him believed.

He broke the wall, He rent the veil,
He made vain pride of bloodline fail;
not casting Israel's root aside,
but drawing strangers to His side.

And though proud lips His crown deny,
and veil His name from heart and eye,
none may unmake His Hebrew breath,
His covenant blood, His thorn, His death.

He came not merely words to give,
nor only showed the way to be;
He made the wounded world His own,
and entered death to set death free.

He is not memory's fading breath,
nor wisdom carved on lifeless stone;
He is the Life that conquered death,
the Lord who claims the world His own.

For from the womb of Zion came
the Lamb who bore the nations' shame;
the Root, the Branch, the promised Son,
through whom the scattered are made one.