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Man With A Pitcher
by Paul Leaman

It seems so strange this year,
Without the one I hold dear.
Now, once again it's Passover time,
And thoughts of her come to mind.

The room is all ready upstairs,
For the feast, the Passover affairs.
But it will lie empty this year,
No voices from there will any hear.

This water pitcher upon my head
The stares of all, how I do dread.
The task my love once bore
I miss the one I adore.

Why are men coming this way,
To mock me on this sad day?
Then they made a strange request
My room for the Passover guest.

Would Master Jesus ask of me?
Then to their request I did agree.
Then the twelve and Jesus came,
To my chamber, praise His name.

They went inside, closing the door,
But I could hear from the lower floor.
I think He washed the disciples feet,
The words I heard were incomplete.

Judas before long left the feast,
I heard later he went to the priest.
Then it grew quiet in the upper room,
Someone no doubt praying, I assume.

Later, Jesus spoke up, praying aloud,
I was so moved, my head I bowed.
Oh the words that came from His heart,
I'll long remember, they'll never depart.

© by Paul H. Leaman

This writing may be used in its entirety, with credits in tact,
for non-profit ministering purposes.

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