by Gideon Burton
He'll come: sky-shredding Jesus robed in red
and ready to descend to bring an end,
when eyes look up, when every knee will bend
and all will be fulfilled that prophets said.
He's come: the infinite to finite wed,
obscured in flesh, who made the cosmos bend;
as weak as us, as though He were a friend;
almighty, yet behold the master's dread:
Oh, come to me whose heavy burdens weigh;
my yoke upon you -- take it -- feel how light,
how easily I lead you unto rest.
Oh, come, discover ease within my way;
buy milk and honey without cost or price;
my child, sit down and be my honored guest.
Photo: flickr - Scott Law
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