Poa Tree Poems
THE HOLIER GRAIL
- by
Dichter1
I hold a cup of wine in my right hand And speak again the words that Jesus spoke And it is blest: This wine has now become So truly His own blood to me provoke To wondrous awe, that one receives such grace; Myself, and at this time, and in this place. That potter's cup Christ used so long ago Was left behind when they all quit the room, Then gathered up and washed and put away. No one gave thought to it, until His tomb Stood empty, sunlit, on that blessed morn Then understanding of our Lord was born! Too late, some thought to seek; that grail was gone, No one could guess which cup had been so used. 'Twas not of metal wrought, with inset jewels A common cup of clay, of course confused With each and every chalice shaped of mud. It showed no sign that it had held His "blood." This cup I hold is holy in my eyes For Christ today has blessed it with His word, And, truly, it has felt His living touch. No ancient relic can be so assured, As one that Jesus gave in love today. I shall make sure it doesn't get away!