Recently I was at a church and after the service, someone handed me a poem. I thought you might enjoy it.
“Go,” said the Master, “go, Son,
In the darkest of parts
Of this world so torn up by sin,
With its manifold bleeding hearts.”
Go where the night is the blackest,
Go where sin’s reign is complete,
Go in the name of King Jesus,
That name that knows no defeat.
Go give balm to the wounded,
The balm for without and within,
The balm that can heal all the bruises,
Caused in the conflict with sin.
Go where the lost and the dying,
The sad and differing sigh,
Take hope and cheer to the weary,
Tell of the home that’s on high.
Go tell the sweetest of stories
That mortals or angels can sing
Of the love of the Savior in glory,
How he offered to meet death’s cruel sting.
Tell of his love for the sinner,
How he healed the broken and torn,
Of his words so full of compassion,
How he cheered the weary and lorn.
Tell of the cross where they nailed Him,
Tell of His anguish and pain.
Tell of His prayer while they railed Him,
Tell He is risen again.
Tell how He went back to glory,
Tell of His ministry there.
Tell of His promises many,
That for His soon return we’ll prepare.
- J.L. Tucker