The Noble Book

One day I found a noble book,
And to its study I betook.
And as I read, I wondered ‘loud
If this fine world of tree and cloud,
Of beast, and bird, and flower, too
Were fair as Eden, shining new.
But nay! The garden, long ago,
Was fairer still than all I know.
And as I sat in rapturous thought,
I thanked the God who made of naught
The many things that I did see—
But made them all to perfect be.

And then I had but little read
But learned of things that filled with dread—
Of how a man, created good
And placed within idyllic world
Should then go spurn the very God
That fashioned him from formless sod;
And how his seed, now sinful born
Should also show the selfsame scorn.

And o'er the tome I still did pore
And learned of golden days of yore
When men were men, and acted so
Like men had ought—ah! Long ago!
But all my happiness was marred
By that with which the world was scarred,
For running, like a scarlet thread,
Through all the tales that I had read:
The very scorn that I had seen—
The same first seen in Eden green.
It seemed, for every good I found,
A hundred evils did abound.

And as I hung on every word
A truly wondrous thing I heard—
That God, enthroned in majesty
Should come to earth a slave to be—
Both truly God, and man, like me!
But even more incredibly,
That He should take my sin, as well,
And suffer all the wrath of Hell.
For I could never hope to pay
The debt to take my sin away.
I, dead in sin—He, full alive
Yet He for me was crucified.
Ah! Blest and highest mystery—
The King of Heav’n would die for me!
‘Tis far too great a mystery—
To make a slave of enemy,
And further still, a son make he—
For me to fathom thoroughly!

But while each page I turned with care,
Yet one thing more I learned in there.
This book held yet another side—
The love of bridegroom for his bride,
And how the God that died for me
Will take His servant home to be
Forever with Him, as He said
To all who claim Him as their Head;
How one day, He will call me home—
Tho’ how and when, I do not know—
Perhaps o’er Jordan's shining waves,
Or through the sky’s gold, cloudy haze.

—4/26/2010

This is my earliest poem I have been able to find. I believe it predates every hymn. I don't remember when I met the poet who inspired me to write, but it can't have been too long before this date.