Colin F. Jones

THEY WILL SIT HERE AT OUR TABLES

~ 1 ~

I might well compare a soldier, to Jesus on the cross
Who died to save the people; thought of as cold and dross.
Sacrificed by His Father, though He would live again,
Humiliated and tormented, wracked and ravaged by awful pain.
If I could make this comparison, though a tear fills my eye,
Could it be they live in heaven, the soldiers that have died?
Could it be that they are Angels, still serving love and right,
Who visit those still living with Satan’s angels of the night?
Could it be that every Christmas, they return again to Earth
To join with friends and family, to celebrate the Saviour’s birth?
Do we see them in our children, feel their presence in our dreams
Despite the moments we recall, when we hear again their screams?
Do we not think them immortal, who walk with our precious God,
Jesus Christ our Saviour, who rose from the sacred sod?

~ 2 ~

They will sit here at your tables, if you provide for them a space,
And if you look at them a moment, you will see their every face.
Fear not if you don’t see them, for they will still be there,
Deep inside your heart; in the memories that you share.
Oh yes I know that Jesus, would have places for them set
At the finest of his tables, lest we folk on Earth forget
That our brothers who can’t make it, are living with us still;
Who need time to help the hapless, their empty lives to fulfil
For some you see have duties, that they have chosen to perform,
providing soothing rest at sunset, and encouragement at dawn.
For those who trust in God, and know who his Angels are:
Each one a loving memory, each one a precious star.
You can dream of them forever; keep their loving image in your eye,
And God will keep them safe until you join them when you die.