Faith / Poetry

The Bells of Chatham

I hear the bells of Chatham ringing.

The breeze through leaves are endless bringing;

A windswept song of 40 angles singing.

A new song.  A new song, I hear.

The meadows beyond the Nauset light;

A wash from winters frozen blight;

Where Winter wept her tears all night.

A grave.  A grave, she tarried.

And doth the morning sun appeared;

thawing Winters frozen tears;

pools of love, where once were fears;

A gift. A gift, she saw.

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The Earth is pregnant with the promise – Spring;

and the goodness of the grace God brings;

The seed of hope from a faithful King.

A day.  A new day, dawning.

Mighty Savior raised from dead;

Gallant Warrior, piecered and bleed;

A crown of thorns upon his head.

Jesus.  Jesus Christ be praised!

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A risen Son from ages past;

A faithful Lord from First to Last;

The debt of sin, like nets were cast.

Away.  Away, be gone.

A King of Kings, A Lord of Lords;

Triumphs with his mighty sword;

And with the Truth he does implore:

Receive.  The gift of Life!

So in the grave where dead bones lie;

Where Winters icy breath, breaths nigh;

Cry out, Cry out, to The Lord on High:

Who raises the dead to LIFE!

Who raises the dead to LIFE!