The crowds all cheered when He came in                                                                                  The loud Hosannas did begin.                                                                                                   Their praise He knew that it was good                                                                                      This cry for love He understood.                                                                                                       In a few days this praise would end                                                                                              He knew the prize, their souls to win.                                                                                        This chosen race it was His own.                                                                                               They thought He would now take His throne.                                                                             He tried to tell them otherwise                                                                                                 They only saw with human eyes.

This cry for love they sang it loud.                                                                                           Their praise He took in from the crowd.                                                                                         He knew their hearts would soon betray                                                                                    His course was set He would not stray.                                                                                     This cry for love He heard it strong.                                                                                        Their heart’s desire was this time wrong.                                                                                    He knew the price. He’d pay the cost.                                                                                            It was their souls He knew were lost.                                                                                           He led them into Passover                                                                                                                 This lamb of God was their cover.

The garden plea was His alone.                                                                                                         The Spirit helped Him with a groan.                                                                                                 The cup before Him had a cost                                                                                                         Drink it He must to save the lost.                                                                                                 His men would sleep as He would bow                                                                                             This time would pass, but it was now.                                                                                             The darkness grew as He prayed on.                                                                                               Would He submit and be the One?                                                                                                   Great drops of sweat fell down like blood.                                                                                       This agony He took for love.

This cry for love was His to make                                                                                                     The Father’s love He must forsake.                                                                                                 He could endure the death and pain                                                                                                 Away from God His tears did rain.                                                                                             This cry for love to Father God                                                                                                         This path alone He must now trod.                                                                                             The Father’s love it was so sweet                                                                                                  He had it from eternity.                                                                                                               This cry for love came from the Son                                                                                           The only perfect One of God.

His sentence this: Be crucified.                                                                                                   He’d done no wrong, not even lie.                                                                                                     The soldier’s whip tore flesh from bone.                                                                                      He took each stripe for us, each one.                                                                                       Carry the cross this was His lot.                                                                                                    He told us too. Have you forgot?                                                                                                       They hung Him there ‘tween earth and sky.                                                                                   He too would ask the question: “Why?”                                                                                           He knew the reason for this shame.                                                                                              He thought of us. He called our name.

This cry for love came from His heart:                                                                                       “Forgive them, God. I’ll do their part.”                                                                                        His death was strange. It’s like no other.                                                                                     He even cared about His mother.                                                                                               This cry for love, pure Holy love,                                                                                                 Fell to the earth, just like His blood.                                                                                           The veil was torn. The earth did quake.                                                                                        The now dead man no breath would take.                                                                                        They laid Him in a borrowed tomb,                                                                                            Just like He started: in a womb.

The stone was moved the women saw.                                                                                      The angel told them, “He is gone.”                                                                                           Peter and John did run to see.                                                                                                   They looked with eyes. Dare they believe?                                                                            “Why do you look among the dead?                                                                                              He is alive just like He said.”                                                                                                      They saw Him, touched Him, felt the holes.                                                                            They now believed it: He is whole.                                                                                                To take this news into the world                                                                                                          They could not stop with insults hurled.

This cry for love is for the seeker.                                                                                              He’ll make you strong when you feel weaker.                                                                             His Spirit comes to change within                                                                                              Your sinful nature should not win.                                                                                             This cry for love there’s only one.                                                                                         Though people search we know He’ll come.                                                                                 He promised He’d come back again                                                                                               Us with Him together to reign.                                                                                                   This cry for love must lead us on.                                                                                                 Tell everybody, everyone.


I pray this Easter is your most meaningful one, yet.

I’ll see you later.   Wade


About Wade Webster

I'm a full-time truck driver who's been called to write. As I grow in my writing I pray you grow in your walk with Christ. My life verse is John 3:30: (it's where John the Baptist is talking to his disciples about Jesus) "Jesus must increase, I must decrease." I hope that comes through in my writing. Look for a new post every weekend. Feel free to offer suggestions for topics you would like to see me cover. For a taste of my lighter side visit my humor blog
This entry was posted in Easter, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to THIS CRY FOR LOVE

  1. What a wonderful, heartfelt, and beautiful post my brother. May your words be what our Lord uses to move many to Him who gives life now and forever. Happy Easter Wade. Thanks for all you do

    • Wade Webster says:

      Thank you so much, Steve. This was my Good Friday assignment. I had no plan, let alone an idea, for this poem until I woke up Friday morning. At least God didn’t wake me up at 2 AM like He usually does. 🙂 I had to fit in writing time throughout the day while making deliveries. I think I did quite well on short notice. Don’t you?

  2. Wade, Have you thought of submitting some of your work to Christian Literary Magazines and Journals?

    • Wade Webster says:

      That is an extremely nice compliment, Angie. Thank you.
      Perhaps a trusted friend could guide me to the best place for such an undertaking since I’m just a clueless truck driver offering my best to God.

Let me know what you think.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s