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He was a Carpenter. He worked with wood.
His work was flawless. His work was good.
'Come to Me,’ He said,’ and I'll give you rest
For my yoke is easy and God's way is best.'
He spoke of heaven and He spoke of hell.
Great words of wisdom He spoke so well.
He reached out to all and cured the blind.
Opening their eyes and freeing their mind.
'What manner of man is this,’ the people cried.
'He's the Son of God,’ the prophets replied.
But they took the Carpenter to Calvary,
and went and nailed Him to a rugged tree.
This great Carpenter. This Man divine.
This Friend of sinners. This Friend of mine.
Placed so much value upon my soul
that He willingly died to make me whole.
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"He was a carpenter. He worked with wood." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 27 Oct. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/107005/he-was-a-carpenter.-he-worked-with-wood.>.