Poor, poor, Jesus, they hung him, on a cross,
And he saved, our souls from evil,
And from our sin's dear cost.
Poor, poor, Jesus, to heaven, he had rose, to make our way ready, and to help us, with our load.
Jesus, dear Jesus, the Son and the Lord, he lights our way, in heaven, with a mighty, burning, torch.
Poor, poor Jesus, he rose on that day, and reigns ever mighty, with a never ending sway.
Poor, poor Jesus, may your love be known, renown,
All men to be with you, in your purposes, profound.
Who worries about the lamb
Who worries about the lamb, that goes to sleep, Who learns about the soul and life it keeps? What feeds her through her
days, Keeps her frolicking in play? Who worries about the lamb, that's fast asleep?
God, he made man, in his way, And he sends the evil sinner, to his grave. For the time he spends, working for his land,
Unto another world, he may, have to pass, one day.
Today, I am a shadow, deep, Thinly etched, in times, murky, sea. As the snows do fall, It claims us, one and all, In joyful
love and caring sympathy.
We can learn to live, in falling rain, When shepherd bells, do call us, home again. You know, I dare not say, what happens,
on that day. Who worries about the lamb, that's fast asleep?
Our father learns, to climb the stairs, each day, That leads him, faithful, to his rectory, Where with ministers aplomb,
he'll cater, to the One, Who gave His life, that we, might live, today.
Sleep, gentle soul. Peaceful, good wishes, may you, keep, As, our loving God, rocks you, in the deep. With his gentle sway,
We learn to live, through each and every day, Rested in the dreams, we hope to keep.