The Other Thief

The man who hung upon the other cross

Believed in Him – yet never was baptised;

Nor bent a knee, repenting of his loss

Of Eden’s grace, though crime his life comprised;

Nor raised a hand or voice in song or prayer;

Nor filled his life with kind deeds, seen or not;

Nor walked to follow any Saviour there;

Nor grew by reading scripture – not one dot.

Instead, he hung there with just one request:

That Him he gazed on, might remember him,

Not for good reason; but that he confessed –

In Jesus, under thorns, as life grew dim –

He saw a King whose reign would never end;

And hoped to serve Him, who became his friend.

(George B. Hill, Apr 2013)

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The children of Jeel al Amal

[ For the children of Jeel al Amal boys home and co-ed school in Bethany, who waved through the window bars at me, when I was the one inside ]:

I saw the bars before I saw the smiles beyond;

My mind had so imprisoned all with me.

Those sparkling eyes held mine and, making bond,

Called me, as if their cell could set me free.

I thought them children, for they mocked their jail.

Yet, how could I release them? Then the sun

Cast shadows down from them; and left me pale

For, they looked in at me; and laughed in fun.

But still, behind these children rose a Wall

Which Banksy’s painted anger bore, a rope

That chokes their race. Are they forgot by all,

By man and God? In Bethany, lost hope?

No! For we see, in broken bread and wine,

News of a Father’s love for these in Palestine.

(George B. Hill, Sep 2014)

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Mr Honest of Pilgrim’s Progress; Creation and Evolution

Old Mr Honest walked with them on Bunyan’s road;

And we must also keep in step with him today.

Both faith and science still must keep his stride

And listen hard to all that he may say.

The Big Bang left its mark for all to find:

Was it Creation’s birth? We cannot tell;

For, quantum nothingness is not the same

As God’s ex nihilis; He used no well.

No spring of time or space was there when He began

To throw the stars like droplets, rising rain;

All things were made by Him from nothing else

Except His love and, one day, His Son’s pain.

Cosmology and physics tell no lies;

But man who worships them the Truth denies.

Old Mr Honest, old as he may be

Is more a child than adult in his mind.

That light from distant stars: how long and far

Has it approached on highway undefined?

Its photons: for what age have they seared through

Night’s darkling emptiness to meet our eye?

We cannot tell; though evidence makes red

The shifting hue, to measure aeons by.

The Bible says God stretched the heavens out,

Made them in days – but were these His or ours?

I wonder: if a child were told He bent

The fleeting seconds, till they seemed like hours:

What they might say? “I know God tells no lies;

So why tell me He makes them?” Truth must rise.

Old Mr Honest walked the Pilgrim’s way,

Because the road lay straight beneath his feet.

Did life evolve? The evidence is there;

Biology was never planned deceit.

Yet those who find their past in random chance

Have equally deceived themselves: though just

A blind watchmaker’s hand had framed their form,

He worked exact and numbered all his dust.

To dust, some wish to fall, or say they shall;

So strange their minds, they think no first design

Of shouting life a loving Maker’s hand

Has sketched, then filled with blood bright incardine:

Such hot blood that when vein was pierced by nail

It reached a sinful world: Truth did not fail.

Old Mr Honest: was he Adam’s son?

Or did no first man disobey his God?

The world, not God, delights to deal with crowds;

Its damned statistics are our race’s rod.

Who knows what creature first walked upright here?

But suffering and pain are borne by each, not all;

Our individual judgement faces us,

And only one made in Truth’s image chose to Fall.

His sinful precedent made us aware;

Another’s act at Calvary shaped a Cross.

First Adam lived; we know it’s true because

Last Adam, Jesus Christ, redeemed our loss.

We find that science tells it honestly;

The Bible, too, but its Truth sets us free.

(George B. Hill, Oct 2015)