<p>I was there when He said it, sitting close on the hill,</p><p>The crowd all around us, the air very still.</p><p>He spoke of the blessed—the poor and the meek—</p><p>And I wrote every word down, my heart feeling weak.</p><p>For I, Matthew, the taxman, who took what was wrong,</p><p>Had left it all behind when I heard His first song.</p><p><br/></p><p>"Come, follow Me," He said, and I rose from my greed,</p><p>Left the coins on the table, planted a different seed.</p><p>My old life was over, my future was slain,</p><p>But the death of that sinner was freedom from chain.</p><p>I gave up my riches, my security's nest,</p><p>And found in my losing an infinite rest.</p><p><br/></p><p>I remember the night in the storm on the sea,</p><p>When Peter cried out, "Lord, if it's You, let it be!"</p><p>He stepped from the vessel, his eyes on the Lord,</p><p>But then he looked down at the waves and the sword</p><p>Of the wind and the water, and started to sink.</p><p>He clung to his life in that terrible blink.</p><p><br/></p><p>But Jesus stretched out His hand and He caught him.</p><p>"O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" He taught him.</p><p>For to look at the waves is to grasp at your breath,</p><p>And to sink in the fear of a watery death.</p><p>But to fix your eyes on Him, come what may,</p><p>Is to walk on the chaos and live in the day.</p><p><br/></p><p>And later, He told us of what was to come—</p><p>How the Son of Man must be struck, must be numb</p><p>Beneath the world's weight, and be lifted up high</p><p>On a cross, to taste death, and then never die.</p><p>He said we must take up our own cross and follow,</p><p>That losing our life is the wine we must swallow.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I write this account, an old man now in years,</p><p>With these words on my heart, still wet from the tears:</p><p>I once was a man who was dead in my sin,</p><p>But I died to that man, and let Jesus come in.</p><p>He took my old name, my shame, and my strife,</p><p>And in losing it all, I found my true life.</p>
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