Through time and tide and yesteryear,
The tales are ever told
Of Hera, Zeus, Athena
Of heros strong and bold.
Men and women, straight and sure,
Never failing in their deeds,
Always there to save their folk,
Attending to their needs...
Yet look again, at heros these
If you are NOT their kind...
Any who fail to worship
Killed and left behind!
No future here when gods you fear,
And death comes oft and sure
And their displeasure means your end,
Though you love them to your core.
But wait, another call is heard!
A softer, gentler voice
Who only asks for love and trust,
Yet offers you a choice...
A voice of One who heals the sick,
And comforts those in pain.
No matter who, no matter where,
With nothing for Him to gain...
As stories go, it isn't much
That gentle healing of Jesus' touch.
But think of life without His love;
Without forgiveness from above.
The other heros are long gone,
Their bodies dead and cold.
But Jesus' voice still calls His sheep,
And shields them in His fold.