These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The Days That Led to the Cross

The teacher in those ancient days
still broke bread with His friends.
His miracles did quite amaze
the lives, that He should tend.

But there were those, who stood against
this Chosen One from God.
They sought occasion for they sensed,
that most would Him applaud.

The days of the annual feast drew near.
Unleavened bread they'd eat.
He marched t'ward destiny. It's clear.
The future, not retreat.

His miracles, His donkey ride,
His anger in God's House,
attention drew, He could not hide,
He'd die to buy His spouse.

These days were leading to the cross.
He'd not avoid that death.
For souls condemned, eternal loss
He'd breathe His last blest breath.

Is there a worthy cause, today,
that drives us on to do
our best in all we do and say,
'til mortal life is through?

We are not Christ, Who died to save,
but each can be His child,
who finds great hope beyond the grave
through Savior, meek and mild.

The life we live is understood
by Christ, and His dear folk,
to others, we're not quite as good
as this eternal Oak.

His Father called Him to the cross
to die and rise, again.
He sensed the pain but saw across
to Resurrection's Win.

Each dear one bought by selfless deed,
He made His very own.
He made each reign as one He freed
in lesser, lasting throne.

by Jay O’Toole
on April 6th, 2022