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Some say, that death is nothing at all,
But how can that be.
The feelings I now feel, that have put my life into free fall,
That have turned my life inside out, surely they are the key.
The hurt, the pain and anger that tear me apart,
The darkness and emptiness that my heart has filled.
It is these that tell me, death is something and make each day so difficult to start;
My hopes and dreams, along with your death have been killed.
How can I see that my life, along with yours, is not at an end?
Is there is to be another chapter, or is my life to end with a sword?
Where is my help to come from; where do I for help, send?
Then night turns to day, darkness to light: because my help comes in the name of the Lord!
Rob Mellowship Easter AD2005
This should be read after the poem:
I lift up my eyes to the hills-where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip-he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you-the LORD is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm-he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
Psalm 121
*********** A House in Emmaus  I wonder how they are getting on in Jerusalem? It’s so quiet here without them.
One of these days I must go up to the Passover. I’m sorry that I didn’t go this time.
I wonder if they met Jesus there? He told them that he was going up. I hope he keeps himself out of trouble. It would be good to meet him in person.
I wish he would come here again. One of these days I must go up to the Passover. I’m sorry that I didn’t go this time.
I wonder how long it will be before they come home? I suppose if they do meet Jesus they could stay on for a while. That day when he came to the village was great. Hearing him talk put a whole new dimension on life.
I wish I had talked to him when he was here. I wish he would come here again. One of these days I must go up to the Passover. I’m sorry that I didn’t go this time.
I wonder who it is that’s coming down the road from Jerusalem? I recognise Cleopas. It is them, home again. I’d better get some dinner on. I hope that they tell me all about it. I suppose, since they’re home so soon, they didn’t meet Jesus.
I wish they had met him and brought him home with them. I wish I had talked to him when he was here. I wish he would come here again. One of these days I must go up to the Passover. I’m sorry that I didn’t go this time.
| Here is a stranger we brought to share our meal,
A stranger we met on the road;
A man who talks of the earth, and the sky,
And the prophecies of old.
Here is a stranger we brought to sit at our table,
A stranger who didn’t pass by;
A man consenting to share our board,
And to speak of eternity.
Here is a stranger we brought to break our bread,
A stranger becoming a friend;
A man who walks with the sick at heart,
And opens the eyes of the blind.
| They brought him, Jesus. They brought him home with them. They walked all that way with him, and didn’t know. They brought him in, and didn’t recognise him.
Now they’ve gone rushing off to Jerusalem again. Why rush off, when they brought him here? He, who is the centre of the universe.
Jesus, I’m glad that they brought you home,
That you sit at my table and eat;
Jesus, I’m glad that they brought you home,
And now I can sit at your feet.
Jesus, I’m glad that they brought you in,
And left you here in my care;
Tomorrow I’ll go to Jerusalem,
And I know that I’ll meet you there.
Tomorrow I’ll walk to the temple wall,
And be glad that you hold my hand;
Tomorrow I’ll smile and talk with you,
And I know you will understand.
Tomorrow I’ll walk the world with you,
And be sure that you know the way.
… … …
“My child, tomorrow is dark and drear.
Come, walk with me today.”
G.H.
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