Each day I scale golgotha's slopes, In vain great heaven's republic seek.
Some bear my name and pin their hopes To christ, crowned king w on peerless peak.
Owe = 'He will return!’ “O° w, tired preachers say. Ate, ahow't Wy % In truth, ee Me ke, I've never been away. abe K a ad Transformed, my rough-hewn beam is found To furnish church and temple door.
There, songs are sung, and prayers are poured Upon an ever absent lord. burs he yer Strikes human flesh and bone alone.
But, still, folk boast my name in vain And fete me as some idol clone.
All fail to heed signs plain to see:
That I am them - and they are me.
I sought my cold and vacant crypt, But found it choked, full to the brim.
A holocaust - a war-grave - slept, A human chain linked limb by limb.
They, too, have died that you might live.
To them, your grateful praises give.
Andy Kemp Andy Kemp is a Methodist local preacher, a freelance writer in social and landscape history, and member of the Northwest Group.