Of all my writings, there are two that were written in 2 sittings, years apart. These were the first ones I ever wrote, and this one, interestingly enough, speaks of two births. While I had known the first, I had written of it but did not write of the second, which is the resurrection, until I had known it as well. It is therefore most befitting that the words of this writing came in two parts. The first part came only as a poem, words. It is all now a song though the music did come somewhere inbetween the two sittings.
The shadow of the gallows tree
Spreads darkly over the grave,
And in the dust I toss and turn,
Hoping He will save.
I know the work is good as done;
He did it all for me;
He laid my sins upon His Son,
Who suffered the gallows tree.
Some day I’ll be a flutterby,
No more to crawl or squirm,
But it’s His work, I can’t deny,
For I am but a worm.
The angels watch from up above
To see this work beneath;
When God has formed in me His love,
His holy sword He’ll sheath,
And glorious will be that day
When Jesus Christ is manifest,
The day for which the saints do pray,
The whole world will be blessed.
Dauphin, MB; 1978-79
And then…
The heavy stone is rolled away; I’ve risen from the earth.
I have new life and power now; I’ve had my second birth.
The day for Him to judge is here; I sit upon His throne;
He draws His sword a second time and I am not alone.
Yes, now I am that flutterby, no more to crawl or squirm,
But it’s His work, I can’t deny,
For I was but a worm…
Yes, it’s His work, I can’t deny,
For I was but a worm.
Lethbridge, AB; 1984-85
Related posts:
In Winnipeg, we met Henry Unrau, who laboured dreadfully under the Law, thinking he was doing God service. He was a tormented soul but a very self-righteous one who, while seeking counsel and help, quite believed that he was in a position of counseling and helping instead toward those who were not enslaved by service of the letter as was he. What ironies and contradictions in man!
The world rushes headlong not only toward destruction but is there in destruction while it rushes. Priorities are confounded, based on gain and selfishness. Big is small and small is big. What is important and what is not? Is it not the "little things" that count? And has not the preacher said, "All is vanity" after firsthand experience of them?
I was given this song while ministering to some men in the Prince Albert Correctional in 1976. I cried, and they cried. I felt for them and they with me. God only knows how this song affected them in time.