Healers Of This World**

How often do we visit,
the healers of this world,
declared well or found ill,
told to take a certain pill.

When the sickness goes away,
we thank the doctor for today.
We know he will be there,
when our health is not so fair.

When a surgeon's hands magic render,
his skill prized, no pretender,
to fix what no one else can,
ranked among the highest of mortal man.

One day no medicine will there be,
to bring relief for all that plea,
wanting to wake up strong and free,
facing only life's final gasp of agony.

A healer came in days gone by,
that brought a cure for you and I.
One who granted the surgeon's skill,
with healing that only He wills.

He through His own death,
brings us to everlasting life,
his own death part of an eternal price,
to redeem mankind,
cheating death's hopeless device.
***
1 Peter 2:24 "He himself bore our sins
in his body on the tree, so that we might
die to sin and live for righteousness;
by his wounds you have been healed."

Susan Hebert Ajaz
copyright 2000
poetrypublisher.com/sajaz