Exiled

Exiled from the world outside,
Writhing on a bed of sickness, I lay.
Countless are the tears I’ve cried,
As aches and pains consume each day.

With an iron rod infirmity struck,
And dragged me outside the camp.
Neck deep in this anguish I’m stuck,
To weep in the dark without a lamp.

Left bound and gagged I lift my eyes,
To Heaven from whence comes my help.
Though I deserve a worse demise,
The Lord God hears my desperate yelp.

“Gracious and holy Heavenly Father,
Please hearken to my cry.
Short of Your glory, I could not fall farther,
But please help me, lest I die.

I am drowning here in pain and sorrow;
All who look upon me, cringe.
I can’t face another dark tomorrow,
Suffering out here on the fringe.

Please lift me up out of the mire,
And deliver me from this.
I implore You, please, good, loving Sire,
Do not my pitiful petition, miss.”

For a while I heard nothing,
Besides my own beleaguered breath.
Then God reminded me of something;
His own Son’s sacrificial death.

To my mind He brought remembrance,
Of His loving, selfless deed.
Christ was beaten beyond human semblance,
As for our sin He chose to bleed.

Though Lord of all He was rejected,
By the sheep of His own fold.
Struck by them, He fell, dejected,
Into a tomb over which a stone was rolled.

This, for us, God willingly did,
To pay the debt for our sin.
After three days Jesus blew off death’s lid,
To never again return therein.

Next I heard a gentle whisper,
The soothing, tender voice of God,
Saying, “I’ve seen every sorrow, cut and blister,
With which you have been shod.

My followers in this world have trouble,
For so it was with Me.
But I will carry you home through rot and rubble,
Just as I rose after death on a tree.

The pain you go through has a purpose,
And through it all I am with you.
Hold fast to Me in loyal service,
Until the day you rise anew.”

Thank you Jesus, my God and King,
For raising me up from the dust.
Through this Earthly exile to home You’ll bring,
All who believe in You and trust.