The Picture

I held it with fondness, beholding each trace
Such feelings of love made my heart skip inside,
I wanted to guard it, I wanted to keep it,
For this was a picture of my groom and I.
I treasured its meaning, I cherished its glow,
Jealousy surged as protectiveness grew;
I wanted to show it for the whole world to see,
I wanted to keep it quite hidden from view.
How special it was! Like gold to my heart,
Nothing portrayed our affection as this.
It displayed our loyalty, tendernesscare,
The strength of our love and the joy of our bliss.
Then, quick as a flash, a thought came to me,
I saw as my portrait was ripped in my face.
The anguish of sorrow! the grief striking deep!
The anger that throbbed for what can’t be replaced!
And quick as the last, I pondered again,
And saw yet more closely the heart of our Lord.
Oh, how He must treasure His picture divine,
A picture of love that the world can’t afford.
So many questions invaded my mind,
Is God brought to tears  when His picture is marred?
Does His heart throb when society takes
His picture of marriage and tramples it hard?
When that which was made to portray deepest love
Is twisted and mocked, and battered with hate,
Does sorrow and anguish fill even God’s heart
As He watches His picture desentigrate?
Then, softly, I heard the voice of my Lord,
“Such sorrow I feel, yet how much more the pain
When those who portray my picture are filled 
With selfishness, pride, and casting the blame.
My love for my Church and My people is great
And from those who are lost I didn’t want to hide,
So I designed marriage—one man and one wife,
To be such a picture of My Bride and I.

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