P.O. Box 1333
Merchantville NJ 08109, USA
They Know Not What They Do
by Gina M. Foster
Her bells sound their sweet song afar.
It is mother’s call — gathering
the young and old, the rich and poor,
the living and the dead in faith.
Voices ring while silver pipes swell,
the King now enters through the gates.
Incensed prayers swirl in the stained light,
some filled with love while others fade,
weighted by human ignorance.
Their King is handed over now.
Will they cherish him with love or
beat and bruise him without regard?
Into pockets and purses or
broken into pieces, secretly
stashed then sold like long ago? Oh
Father forgive them, for they know not
what they do! Forgiveness extends
from His merciful heart, as tears
combine with the blood most precious.
Lovingly He waits for them, but
they persist, they forget, they turn
to the street; running while the bells
cry out in vain. Blinded by life,
they cast off garments of white and
wander in darkness until they
are called to be saints once again.