Signed In Blood

 

I ran after him, just one more in a crowd of mixed multitude

Seeking a word or a touch while he longed only for solitude.

From city to city, fueled by my desire to acquire the very best

I followed, though my ambitions were not as noble as the rest.

In my hand was an autograph book, signed by the world’s elite,

This so-called Messiah’s signature would make my book complete.

From Cana into Capernaum, Judea and Jerusalem, I hounded him

Never getting close enough to receive the treasure I hoped to win.

I was present during his triumphant entry and later at the temple,

As my need to reach him by now exceeded the passion of a disciple.

Tearing through the crowd I ran; past the blind, the sick, the lame,

Desire had become an obsession; I had to have this man’s name!

But he stole away with his disciples for the Passover was coming soon,

And dined with friends and a beloved enemy there in an upper room.

Later, as he was arrested and then sentenced to death, my heart sank

It was over! The last page of my autograph book would remain blank.

I followed one last time, watching as the soldiers raised his cross up high,

And found myself alone with him as the multitude left him there to die.

His eyes pierced my soul and wordlessly he ordered me to open the book

Then muscles ripped and blood splattered from the nail-torn hand he shook.

I looked at my book now covered with Jesus’ blood – but still there was no name,

With his last breath He whispered, “My Name and My Blood are one and the same”!

Sherry Wyne
© Copyright 2014-2015
All Rights Reserved

“Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one
of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins,
and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.”      Acts 2:38