It's not a pretty sight...It's Beautiful!

 

BEAUTIFUL

 

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            Crimson streaming

            From His crown

                        Hands,

                                    Side,

                                                Feet,

            Onto my head,

                        Flowing down my face,

                                    Over my body,

                                                Covering my feet,

                                                            Making me whiter than snow.

 

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            It’s agony.

            He calls for His Father,

            Writhes, gasps.

                        Oh, the weighty burden

                        Of sin upon the Sinless One,

                                    The world’s,

                                                Mine,

                                                            Yours.

            Agony,

            Ushering the covenant of salvation -

                        The world’s,

                                    Mine,

                                                Yours.

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            It’s finished.

            They take Him down

                        From the terrible Cross.

            Hastily,

                        They place Him in the tomb.

            Securely,

                        They seal the rolling stone.

                        They guard His grave

                                    In awesome,

                                                Tremulous,

                                                            Expectant

                                                                        Stillness.

It’s not a pretty sight -

It’s beautiful.

            His Body, gone.

                        Gone!  With power

                        In one resplendent moment -

                        Seal unsealed,

                                    Stone rolled,

                                                Earth jolted on its axis.

                        Angels appeared, hallowing -

                                    Alleluia!  Alleluia!

                                                He is risen!

                                                            We live

                                                            Because He lives.

 

                                                                                    It is beautiful.

                                                                                    Beautiful.

 

Maude Carolan

The first draft of this poem was written in the dark, several years ago, during a Marty Goetz concert at the Beth Israel Worship Center. He was singing "Love of God." As he sang the words..."Can you see...on that tree...the love of God?" I was immediately inspired to rummage for a piece of paper and scribble the words of what would become this poem of praise.