To Dine With Kings - A Poem

To Dine With Kings:

I once was lost; a hopeless urchin in the street,
No clothes on my back or shoes on my feet. 
Then a Stranger came my way and invited me in
And then I sat down to a table with Him. 
The room was warm, a beautiful table spread,
The guests were finely clad, they wore crowns on their head.
They had garments of white, a warm glow emanated from each,
So beautiful I could scarcely bear to lift my head to see my reach.

I had nothing to wear to this festive meal,
The rags I owned I had to beg, borrow or steal. 
I wanted to stretch my hand out, to receive our Host’s delights,
But I had far too much shame and far too much fright. 
What would they say when they noticed me? 
Surely my rags and my scars they could see. 
When I finally reached out to the meal that seemed so good,
They did not laugh or mock like I thought they all would.

Whose hand was that, reaching out where mine should have been?
This one was not dirty nor marred on its skin. 
It was beautiful and clean, and wore a garment that did gleam. 
To my shock it was my own; but how could this be!  
I’d come in wearing rags as anyone could see. 
Now I appeared as though I was royalty. 
A strange thought at that moment then occurred to me…
These too seated here, had they come in as I? 
Barely covered at all, left in the street to die? 
Had the Stranger found them too and taken them in? 
Were their rags filthy and dirty, did they have scars on their skin? 
Somehow in His Company did it all melt away?
And vanish like darkness by the sun’s shining rays?

Then I realized I was carried to a table to dine
In a robe and crown that were not mine. 
Then I realized I was carried to the table by Love,
From now and here to His throne above. 
Then I realized I was carried to the table before,
And from now and here to my Lord evermore.

Chanel Berg