I hear the Question my tiny child,
Naked in a manger, meek and mild.
Stripped of Your power and dominions wide,
Far from Your home and Father's side.
I hear the Question from one small boy,
Fleeing to Egypt from Herod's ploy.
No home once more and no country,
So hard for a child not even three.
I hear the Question You ask young man
As You wander across that distant land.
Homeless still and giving all
To any who answer to Your call.
I see the Question in battered face,
In a back that bears the whip's red lace.
Mocked and scorned and cursed and killed,
And yet the Question is not stilled.
The Question screams through eternity
From the One who hangs upon the tree.
I did all this to set you free.
What value have you placed on me?
D.J. Ludlow (From the 'Life Lines' Anthology)
Provided it is done freely and without charge
"The Question" may be copied, used and distributed
(in its entirety only, including this notice)
by brothers and sisters in Christ
to the profit and glory of The Lord alone (ttpagoTLa)
By special permission of
D.J. Ludlow copyright 1995.
#smallgiftsministries #ttpagoTLa
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