N.A.Neyland Dec 2016
The saviour came my way, one eve
I knew not who was he
But sensed a love not felt before
As he stopped and looked at me
Our eyes met as he walked across
Though him, I could not see
But felt this love, this radiant love
And sheer empathy
He spoke of light — the light of the world
To his students, apparently
A subject of which, little I knew
Yet he spoke so authoritatively
I sensed him bend and rustle dirt
Then spit, was all I heard
And work that dirt into a mud
As his friendship I incurred
‘Twas the shock of his gentle touch
As I quickly closed my eyes
And felt the warmness of the mud
Then ‘wash them’ he advised
His students helped me to the pool
To bath off the healing clay
And for the first time since I was born
I could see, this very day
What joy, what joy as I opened them
The colours I could see
And then my saviour’s smiling face
Who had heard my lifelong plea
He later said, do you believe
The Son of God this day
I asked him then who that might be
“the one who applied the clay”
Could I reply with ought but yes
For the healing he did bring
Not only blindness was removed
But pain and suffering
He taught the kingdom comes in power
Not words and robes and taking
A realm of giving life to others
And healing hearts a ‘breaking
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