The Christ 


Born in a manger in a little village In a town with sheep a very dark age Born to a virgin and her carpenter husband To their name little money one ass no land Quiet he grew among his peers One word for him they noted ” queer” Wisdom he had among his kin Yet he dwelt in our wretched skin Friends he made in his lifetime Together they stayed while the clock chimed Twelve they were until one gave up One refuse to drink form the loyal cup So then the Christ was risen on a cross No gains it seems just a great loss But what we know not is the sacrifice He paid the ultimate price His kindness, grace and love we see As great as the deep blue sea The best part is he’s waiting for us to live Eternally with him. All we have to do is believe.

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By clarajack


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Pencilmarks and Scribbles Magazine was founded in 2017 by Clara Jack to be a home for African writers, asking them to come as they are and giving them room for growth. The publication aims to give back to the Nigerian Literary scene for the things it has given us.