ARE WE TO BLAME

I thread back, like, some ninety-some

Years when mother and dad had me, since

6 months of age, why recalling?  India bound, of course, a prince,

Prince of Wales, so long ago!  Remember well the time

King George the IV with three before Him, I think,

Sure, I recall, thanks to Britishers.  The link!

.

.

Older brother, father and mother, Miss Terrel came along,

Herbert Henry Cox, full name, and Miss Tefrit, so full of song!

Sure, why I sing wherever I go?  The hymns I love the best!

Knit way inside me!  But popular worldly, you can forget!

.

.

But on that hill so far away, stood

That Old Rugged cross,

Emblem of suffering and shame!

Hanging there suffering loss!

.

.

Man’s sins to atone.  Everywhere

Red, the yellow, black, and white.

Like, children searching for pleasure

Dying in wrong, not right!

.

.

The wrong preferred the sinful pleasures

For dying, going to Hell!

Rejecting eternal treasure

In Heaven with  angels to dwell–

.

.

With the Christ who died to save all!

Nailed there on that cross,

Many now who know no bettter

Die!  Suffering the loss!

.

.

Are we to blame?  Failing to tell

Those rejecting the name

Jesus, Heaven, lost – place of Hell.

Can just bow our heads in shame!

.

.

Pleading guilty, the Sam  10.20.12

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