He is Preciousness: A Poem

He is Preciousness: A Poem

Father how precious is Thy Son

To Thee, to us, to all Thine own,

Whether upon the accursed tree,

Or seated on Thy glorious Throne.

Ever He was Thy hearts' delight,

The "altogether lovely" One,

Who trod this scene at Thy behest,

His one desire, "Thy will be done."

He healed the sick and raised the dead,

He stilled the tempests' raging storm.

Met all mans' need in love divine,

The Son of God, in servant form.

He spake as ne'er man spake before,

With voice of calm authority,

He fed the hungry multitudes,

He walked upon the restless sea.

Holy, guileless and undefiled,

The subject, humble, obedient One,

Down here in manhoods' lowly guise,

Very Man, yet Gods' own Son.

Nailed to the cruel, shameful cross,

He hung in deepest agony,

Abandoned by the holy God,

He suffered, bore it all, for me!

Raised from the dead, no more to die,

Atonement wrought, salvation won,

The Father satisfied, appeased,

Must glorify His blessed Son.

Seated upon His Fathers' Throne,

A Man in the glory now is set,

To us He is "the preciousness,"

To Thee, O God, more precious yet.

Whilst searching through my "papers" scattered hither and thither in my study, I came across this poem I had written many years earlier. I doubt that it has any literary value, but it must have had its beginning in my heart at some juncture in my lifes' experience. I publish it simply because I wrote it and feel it does feebly express something of my appreciation of Christ.