The love of Christ extends beyond the skill
Of man or woman to compose or write
With computer logic or ink and quill.
A Shakespearean sonnet would be quite trite
To capture His love in language of man
Or discover a boundary great or small
Of His bountiful rich enveloping plan
To benefit humanity all.
To you He extends His passionate glance
Of favor and pleasure, and twinkling eyes
So filled with longing, desiring the chance
Of relations with you, for whom He died,
And cries: “Oh, come to my arms, precious one.
Experience My love. You are My son.”