As most little children
    Play with their little toys,
The hammer and some nails
    Are gifts for little boys

So it was with our Saviour
    As He held them in His hand,
Each time a nail was driven
    He knew His life was planned

Each time He held the hammer
    He felt the pain so true,
Knowing very well one day
    What sinful man would do

As He grew somewhat older
    Working with those tools each day,
The thought of what lay before Him
    Was most painful, in every way

Still He never, ever murmured
    Nor ever did He complain,
As the nails were being driven
    So salvation, we could gain

Tom Steidinger

This wonderful poem was sent to me by the author above.
If you like it why not e-mail him to tell him so. Maybe he will send us more!

tomsteidinger@Route24.net

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