A Mother's Tears His blood-stained body battered from the evil they had done.
Despite her pleas to save his life, that day she watched him die--
While the world moved on its way, another mother cried.
Amidst the dark and gloomy day, she could not depart
From the presence of her son, pain tore at her heart.
All she knew was that she loved the one who now was stilled;
They had taken his dear life, her son had been killed.
Those nearby soon crept away, yet she lingered there;
He was gone where she could not, oh what deep despair.
No one knows the words she spoke on that dismal day--
All she knew was they had taken her dear son away.
Yet her son was more than just another countless loss;
Her son died upon a tree, there on Calvary's Cross.
Since that day there on that hill, many mothers' tears
Have been shed for loved ones lost, many, many, years.
Her son bore the weight of sinful man, Sweet Love Divine;
His mother lost her son that day that I might not lose mine.
Tears are numbered and each one weighs about the same
As the tears shed on that day, when Mary cried His name.
When this mother cries and sends her prayers to God above,
Jesus stands at His right hand, looking down in love.
He sees my grief, He feels my hurt, He suffered in my place
That my son could still go free, by Amazing Grace.
"A Mother's Tears" Copyright © 1997 by Patricia Sikes.
All Rights Reserved.
The Prisoner A prisoner stands waiting to pay for his sins.
The chamber is crowded, they've all come to see
The prisoner be punished, he'll never go free.
The trial begins, the lawyers debate.
Each one intending to influence the fate
Of the prisoner there seated in shackles and chains;
Broken and fettered, his loss is their gain.
Hour after hour the battle goes on.
The prisoner's defeated, he knows he did wrong.
His guilt is apparent, it shows on his face;
It's his fault alone for his life of disgrace.
The courtroom grows silent, the jurors all leave
To ponder his future and what they believe
To be the best verdict for one low as he--
There'll be no redemption, he'll never go free.
Still sits he there silent with head bending low,
He knows there's no mercy, he knows where he'll go.
The jurors are finished, the verdict is read:
"Guilty of all," the jury has said.
The judge pounds the gavel and sentence is passed;
Life once full of promise is over at last.
Then breaking the silence of gloom and despair--
A voice like no other, filling the air:
"Stop the proceedings! I'll go in his stead!
I'll pay the price that's now on his head.
Unlock those shackles and set him free!
My name is Jesus, I died on a tree."
Facing the prisoner once doomed to die
He reaches out for him with love in His eyes
And draws him e'er gently, close to his side--
Whispering sweetly, "For you, Son, I died."
Yes, there on a cross, on Calvary's brow,
Thousands of years between then and now;
Yet He knew your name when He hung on that tree;
He knew you would need Him--He loves you and me.
"The Prisoner" Copyright © 1997 by Patricia Sikes.
All Rights Reserved.
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