Christ the King

In rustling sound of wind my dead heart wakes
From sleep induced by venom of an asp,
And hope, a stranger, now my own heart grasps–
For angel’s wings stir wind for all our sakes.

In my heart’s eye I see a Virgin Maid
With face from New Creation’s first faint light,
As she an angel hears without sin’s blight–
The first awaked by choice her son once makes

Her human “yes” brings Him in swaddling clothes;
Disguised, He comes, our hearts consent to woo,
To die for us so we can our sin rue
And Him as Savior from that sin will know.

Yet, hope in my sin’s night my heart has seized,
Tells me one day Creation all will see
Him come again and all will bow the knee
To King—completes all time: the world’s reprieve.