The Physician

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

Who can heal the wounds? But you,
Who can change Saul? But you,
Lord thy sheep is in the midst of thorn,
Lord she mourns, Lord she mourns.

He carries us in the midst of our troubles,
The foot prints are not thine,
When you are in midst of trouble,
I carry you in arms of mine.

Yet I am in the mist of sorrow,
My loneliness is heavier than all sands,
Oh my child, I tell you,
You are in my nail pierced hand.

Why then have I sorrow,
Why then have I pain,
Why then have I distress,
Why then I am pale

Look at the cross, my daughter,
Look at the cross, my son,
See I have opened the heavens for thee,
Yet my children are undone.

Who crushed your soul?
Who has hardened your heart?
Look at the cross be whole
And sorrows shall flee.

I have shut the door of Hades,
I have crushed the power of hell
Are your sorrows mightier than I?
Can they even me excel?

Ye are the branch,
I am the wine,
No branch can be fruitful,
When severed from thine

Draw from me daughter,
Draw from me son,
Why lay in shatters,
Why are thee undone.

I am knocking at the door, my daughter,
I am knocking at the door, my son,
Open up the door that I may come,
Open up the door that I may come.

I wrote this poem for my sister Janet Jacob.
She wrestled with loneliness many a times.
I hope it touches your hearts.

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