The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior


The Poetry Of Beto Ochoa~ Prose from a spiritual warrior

Sunday, April 08, 2007


Gethsemane, we found our Lord
Bleeding there from every pore
Taking then the bitter cup
To save us all with Holy Love

Betrayed there, came they for his skin
Since Judas, Satan entered in
Thirty pieces was the weight
That seeming sealed our Saviors fate

But railed He not against the field
By Grace the severed ear He healed
Then borne away and roughly so
Yet anger did our Lord not show

In the Temple of his Father
Blind men sent Him to be slaughtered
Still He did not raise a hand
Christ the Sacrificial Lamb

So to the Roman Governor
The mob proceeded through the door
But Pilate found no fault in him
And saw the special soul within

Then rioting, the mob did chant
Give us Barabbas, kill this man
So Pilate turned Barabbas free
And beat the Lord relentlessly

So showed the visage marred to them
And washed he then his bloody hands
A wooden cross was bound to Him
Whom Pilate judged was without sin

To Calvary with whips and cords
They drove our Savior on before
In weariness he stumbled such
That Simone the Cyrene helped crutch

On the two did bear the tree
Nailed to it  our Lord would be
Then cried out did the King Of Jews
"Forgive, they know not what they do!"

Then gambled did they for his cloak
And to the Heavens Jesus spoke
Abba, Abba can't You see?
Why has't Thou forsaken Me?

Then in the sky a Heavn'ly Host
Appeared and Christ gave up the Ghost
So in the tomb they laid our Lord
And rolled a stone before the door

Then three days hence was Easter Morn
And Christ arose in flesh reborn
Salvation now was fait accompli
With nail marks in the hands and feet

Mark we this day and waiting brave
That He arose mans soul to save
And so to all my kindred say
"He comes again, prepare the way!"

No comments:

About Me

My photo
My families came to Texas when It still belonged to Spain.



View My Stats