A Few Clouds ~
High: 80°F ~ Low: 56°F
Wednesday, Aug. 31, 2016
Curtain Rising on ChristianityPosted Monday, April 18, 2011, at 12:42 PM
The Glorious day of First Fruits, when filled by Resurrection, Sealed man's opportunity to be Saved by the Grace of Emmanuel, Jesus (God With us). He Lives, AMEN, He Lives. Hallelujah
By Arley Steinhour 041811 (eve of Passover)
Passover comes upon us, once the Sun is fully set,
To start the day of Sacrifice, that pay's our Sin-filled debt.
Four days, the Pascal Lamb was watched explicitly,
For blemish, or impurity, to disqualify Lamb totally.
The Lamb of God, named Jesus, passed the Priestly Test,
As High Priest, just like Pilot, finds 'No Fault,' in the Best.
Perfect is the decision, to allow the Lamb to die,
This time Killing Him in Hate, makes one want to cry.
Through the day of Sacrifice, Prophecy did fill the day,
Events and timing filled to perfection, in a heinous way.
Found Perfect at Sun Rising, about Six o'clock that day,
When most folk were awakening, to enjoy a Pascal Play.
Scourged, and hung upon the Cross, by Nine, the Morning 'Even,'
Between, two thieves, quite guilty, for living the life of an Heathen.
One on the Right, berates the Lord, for not saving self and them,
But from the Left, a plea to Jesus, to remember at Kingdom, him.
'I tell you truly,' said He, 'you'll be in Paradise, with me,'
Blessing the thief upon the Left, with perfect Eternity.
The Priests, and peoples taunted, a miracle wanted to see,
Daring Jesus, come on down, to prove the King He be;
Jesus kept His heart as pure, as He always had before,
Pleading to the Father, "Forgive them, as they know no more."
High Noon came, as the sky did darken, looking very grim,
On Temple mount, the Pascal lamb was tied to the Alter rim.
At the time of 'After Even,' the High Priest his thirst did voice,
On the Cross, Jesus thirsted, vinegar on Hyssop was his only choice.
Our Sins were weighing heavy on our Savior by that time,
Calling out to God on High, Psalm twenty two, said it fine.
'My God, My God, why do you forsake me,' Jesus cried so mournfully,
God couldn't look upon the Sin Jesus bore, for all humanity.
The Pascal lamb, on Temple Mount is sacrificed and finished,
Jesus surrendered His Soul that moment, with 'It is Finished.'
Lightening flashed, thunder roared, earth quaked violently,
Temple veil torn top to bottom, as rocks rent, graves open silently.
To end the day before Sabbath began, dead must be removed,
Soldiers broke the legs of thieves, death came quickly, ever proved.
Jesus dead, His legs not broken, but a spear thrust into His chest,
Blood and Water, as prophesied, flowed from wound breast.
Thieves were quickly taken down, thrown into pit so hurried,
Jesus, lain in wealthy mans tomb, where no man ere been buried.
The Priests, I feel, knew they did err, in having Jesus killed that day,
Went to Pilot, pleaded for a guard on tomb, three days the safest stay.
They now knew Jesus meant himself, He would be resurrected,
Or Disciples could steal the body, the event that they suspected.
Three days and nights, passed without event, or so they say,
Until the Sun was about to rise, Day-One, called First Fruits day.
From Tomb, Jesus resurrected to Glory, TORAH Saints in grave did too,
First Fruits, walking through Jerusalem, heading Home, up in the Blue .
Soldiers panicked and ran away, Priests bribed them to tell a lie,
Mary Magdalene arrived, before the Sun showed light in sky;
Stone removed, Tomb quite empty, to Disciples she ran to tell,
Peter and another, scampered to Tomb, finding naught but empty shell.
It took the day for all to know, that Jesus had resurrected, as He did say,
When He walked into the locked tight room, proving He is the only WAY.
They had the Faith, they knew the Way, His teachings all made sense,
Faith in Messiah, Jesus, opens hearts with Salvation, just get off the fence.
Showing most recent comments first
[Show in chronological order instead]
Respond to this blog
Posting a comment requires free registration:
Praise & Poetry
- Blog RSS feed
- Comments RSS feed
- Send email to Arley Steinhour