Though
others around me with years in the fray
Seemed quivering and weak toward their work for
that day,
And even our leader, Centurion so called,
While appraising the troops, looked himself quite
appalled,
I eagerly awaited to show them my nerve,
Bolstered for certain that I had better serve
And show to King Herod, and show to them all,
That I had more nerve, and more zeal, and more
gall.So
we rode forth that day to the town of our call,
Bethlehem by name; but none rode quite as tall
As I, while I dreamt of the fame that would be
To this newest of soldiers, the fearless one, he.
Not even real danger in this type of fray,
For no child nor its mother could call into play
A challenge against one so trained and so armed;
By nerve I’d slay more, and never be harmed.
My sword
swung by rote and did it’s cruel deed;
To the blood and cries at first I gave no heed.
I charged with more haste to do more than my
share,
Swinging and stabbing as pain filled the air,
Till slowly I tired from the pace I had set,
And slowly the carnage reached into my breast.
It pounded my heart and pressed tight on my air,
And I sank into blackness and fear and despair.
How could I
have wreaked such havoc unknown?
How trade such young lives for name or for
throne?
I then saw why others had quivered that day
As they faced such revulsion of cowardly fray.
And I vowed I’d learn more of the kingly
young boy,
To see if ‘twas his way to build or to
destroy.
For surely is man to be nobler in truth,
To defend ‘gainst aggression, but not
against youth.
From the Jews
over many years I came to know
Of the promised Messiah whom justice would sow;
Who even soon by prophets foreshown
Was to come any day making his kingdom known.
A man so unworthy, so blood-stained as I,
Was then graced by the Savior, who heeded my cry.
One Jesus by name, this Centurion blessed,
Bringing life to my servant who lay in
death’s rest.
Then
shattered was I when I heard Christ had died,
My faith growing weaker; I faltered and I cried.
But tears turned to joy when I heard he’d
arose,
And I asked that he heal me, for he all sorrow
knows.
I asked his forgiveness for slaying the youths,
And praised now this king who made known all
God’s truths.
I prayed long to serve him, my family, all of us,
Then said Peter, “God calls thee, . . .
Cornelius.”
Praise to his
name, to his glory, and his love,
That he takes from the lowest and lifts them up
above.
One such as I, seeking fame and trained to kill,
Slaughtered so many doing one false king’s
will.
Now forgiven and blessed many times and again,
I’m serving the true king who will bless all
of men.
My burden he lifted at Calvary, and my sins he
has taken away.
He’ll carry your burden too, if to him you
sincerely pray.
Editor’s
Note: The poet above assumes that Cornelius may
have been one of the soldiers assigned by Herod
to kill the infants in Bethlehem and environs.
This is poetic license. There is nothing in the
Bible to either confirm or deny that reality.
“Herod,
when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men,
was exceeding wroth.” —Matthew 2:16
“No, Herod,
thou art not mocked of the wise men, but of a
Higher than they. "He that sitteth in the
heavens doth laugh at thee; the Lord hath thee in
derision." "He disappointeth the
devices of the crafty, so that their hands cannot
perform their enterprise. He taketh the wise in
their own craftiness, and the counsel of the
froward is carried headlong" (Psa. 2:4; Job
5:12-13).”
Jamieson,
Fausset, and Brown Commentary
|
“Then Herod, when
he saw that he was mocked of the wise men, was exceeding
wroth, and sent forth, and slew all the children that
were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from
two years old and under, according to the time which he
had diligently inquired of the wise men. Then was
fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet,
saying, In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and
weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her
children, and would not be comforted, because they are
not.”