C.H. Spurgeon

Sinners, let me address you with words of life; Jesus wants nothing from you, nothing whatsoever, nothing done, nothing felt; he gives both work and feeling. Ragged, penniless, just as you are, lost, forsaken, desolate, with no good feelings, and no good hopes, still Jesus comes to you, and in these words of pity he addresses you, "Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out."

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Saturday, February 10, 2007

They Say I Killed My Baby

Reference: A little boy my grandmother babysat, 2006

Dazed and confused, standing across from the man at the desk
Blinded by lights, and holding a board with numbers up to my chest
Trying to piece it all together, feeling a little crazy
The man spoke out in anger, told me I killed my baby

With shock and disbelief, I said this is not so
For I had picked him up from school, to home I wanted to go
My precious little baby, I placed inside the seat
Buckled him up and checked it twice, and kissed him on the cheek
We were about to arrive at home, when a policeman came from behind
Why I am here, I haven’t a clue; I didn’t run any light or stop sign
Where is my baby, can you tell me that, he must be scared without me
I’m sure he has stories he wants to tell and crafts he wants me to see
Yes, I hear what you are saying, but to my mind it doesn’t seem clear
Please tell me once again, go slow, so my thoughts do not smear

Dear lady, I’m afraid it’s true, what I am about to say
I understand in your condition, it may not seem that way
You were on your way to school, to bring your son to class
True he was buckled in his seat, but you had drink in your glass
You dipped a little off the road, and jerked to make correction
You crossed the lanes and hit a tree, for your son there was no protection
Instantly your son was taken, there was nothing they could do
When help arrived, they found you drunk, what I say is true
I’m sorry, but you are guilty, when you are sober you will know
You traded the life of your little baby, for the alcohol you chose

I can’t believe it, it can’t be true, I would never hurt my child
I can’t even remember a single moment, did I really act so wild
Still confused, with no recollection, my baby must be alive
With no memory, but the words of others, they lock me up inside

They buried my boy today, but me, I could not go
I’m sober now and must believe, although I did not know
If I close my eyes, I can almost see his face
A smile when he was born, but all other memories erased
You know what’s worse than losing my baby, especially as they say
I can’t tell him I’m sorry or take it back, I don’t even remember that day
Forever this will be a blur, I may never comprehend
How I ever became a drunkard, and took the life of my baby in the end
Who will ever forgive me, how can I forgive myself at all
My baby was all I had that was good, and I traded him for alcohol



RC said...

Did you write that?

Writer, Splinters of Silver.com said...

Yes sir. I wrote that from the facts I received from my grandmother [along with poetic justice] reguarding the child which she babysat for a long while. She was greatly upset to say this lest when this happened.

John Bunyan

To be saved is to be preserved in the faith to the end. 'He that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.' (Mt. 24:13) Not that perseverance is an accident in Christianity, or a thing performed by human industry; they that are saved 'are kept by the power of God, through faith unto salvation.' (1 Pet. 1: 3-6) But perseverance is absolutely necessary to the complete saving of the soul…. He that goeth to sea with a purpose to arrive at Spain, cannot arrive there if he be drowned by the way; wherefore perseverance is absolutely necessary to the saving of the soul.