I Was in the Crowd

Everywhere he went

He was followed by a crowd

And unlike the usual multitude

That crowd was seldom loud.

They hung upon his every word

They loved to hear him speak,

Never a man spoke like he did

And he seldom took a seat.

I know about what I speak

For I was in the crowd,

Wherever he went I had to be

To myself I had made a vow.

Something drew me close to him

At first I knew not what

But wherever you would find him

I was there on the spot.

I saw him heal a blind man

And the priests were very mad,

I was there and I wondered why

For they had made me sad.

He was criticized for doing good

When he made a lame man walk,

Maybe it was just their jealousy

For all they did was talk.

I was in the crowd that day

As they ate the bread and fish,

I was satisfied with what I got

But a little more was still my wish.

Even now as I reminisce

What struck me was the taste

And the fragments were all collected,

He did not encourage waste.

This reminds me of the time

That two had made their vows,

I was at that wedding ceremony

Yes, I was in that crowd.

  

I was there at the tomb

When Lazarus rose from the dead,

I remember like it was now

Just a few words he had said.

I almost ran away

But everyone stood his ground,

Perhaps like me they were afraid

But to the spot they were bound.

Once he forgave a man’s sins

And the crowd was really incensed

But then he also healed the man

Showing the man was truly cleansed.

That day they showed their hate

And became particularly loud,

I perceived their evil intent

For I was also in that crowd.

I wished I had had the courage

To walk right up to him

And though I eased my way to the back

I was conscious of my sin.

I was in the crowd

Among the mourners that day

That he stopped a funeral procession

And stood squarely in the way.

There was no need for a burial

Not after the words he said,

That mother and all rejoiced

For her son was no longer dead.

I recalled he touched a leper,

To do such none of us would dare

But something amazing happened

The leprosy disappeared.

Yes I was in that crowd too

And it left me stupefied,

If I had not seen it for myself

By me it would have been denied.

I could go on and on

About the wonderful things he did

And often he would instruct

To keep it under the lid.

He never wanted publicity,

Popularity was not his calling

But the way he went about his mission

Was to me particularly enthralling.

There was a particular day

When the crowd was very large,

There was scarcely standing room

As the crowd around him barged.

I was at the very front

As he came riding in the way,

Yes! I was in that very crowd

On that Palm Sunday

Unlike the other multitudes

This was a noisy crowd,

They shouted and they praised

And their hosannas were very loud.

He did not appeared bothered

As he had seemed at other times,

He just let them be

As though it were a sign.

It was a coronation fit for a king

I can still hear them shout,

“If these should hold their peace,” he said

“The stones would immediately cry out.”

So unlike the other times

When he did not want the praise,

This time he rode into Jerusalem

As they their voices raised.

I was in yet another crowd

This one with swords and staves,

They went to capture him

As though he were a knave.

A friend of his was with them

And he did something quite amiss,

He walked right up to him

And on his cheek he planted a kiss.

I distinctly heard his response

And he began it with the word 'friend',

I was there in that crowd

Even though I was not one of them.

Someone drew his sword

And cut off somebody’s ear,

Next this man restored it

He showed such loving care.

A stern rebuke was given

To the one that had used his sword,

Up to this day I still remember the effect

That resulted from His word.

He allowed himself to be taken

And I based this on what he said,

I got the impression if he wanted

One word and they’d be dead.

But he never put up a struggle

He calmly went along

And though he didn’t smile

On his face there was no frown.

I was in the crowd that day

When they called for a thief and robber,

It was Barabbas who was released

It was Jesus whom they clobbered.

I can still hear that crowd

The same crowd that on Palm Sunday

Shouted hosannas to the Highest

Now the Barabbas chant held sway.

Give us Barabbas they shouted

But Jesus crucify!

That this man had done no wrong

Not one of them could deny.

I recalled that horrible Friday

As he carried that wretched cross,

He crumpled beneath its weight

And his rapid blood loss.

I was in that crowd

That witnessed the cruel nails

They drove in his hands and feet

And the spear his side impaled.

I saw the blood as it gushed out

And the anguish on his face

And the soldiers stood and laughed

Ignorant of their own disgrace.

I was in that crowd

That rather despicable crowd

When though with waning strength

His voice was heard particularly loud.

I thought I knew all he meant

But then I was so mistaken

“Father forgive them,” he had said

Yes, they were forgiven.

Later I came to realize

That he meant you and me too,

We too were just as guilty

As that crucifixion crew.

I was in that crowd that saw him

When they took him from the cross,

It was at that time I began to feel

A sense of his disciples’ loss.

They returned to fishing

And I to buying their fish

But how I yearned to see him

That was my utmost wish.

I was in those crowds

But I was the silent one,

I should have spoken up for him

But I didn’t and then he was gone.

I sauntered away from the last scene

With my chin upon my chest

At the great miscarriage of justice,

And the world with all its mess.

I subsequently learnt he arose,

At first I was surprised,

Since then I was in that final crowd

That saw him to heaven rise.

That was a special crowd

That came to belief in him,

He said the way that he departed

One day he will come again.

I will be among the crowd

That will see him come again

But more in particular

The crowd that will with him reign.

That great cloud of witnesses

Of his wonderful saving grace

That will sing the song of redemption

When we look upon his face.

Stewart Russell © March 2018