Bread in the Springtime Part Three (Eleventh Sunday After Pentecost)

Absalom, my son! he cries.
Absalom, my son, my son!
Would that I had died, not you,
O Absalom, my son my son
Absalom! My son

Deal gently with the boy, he said,
The father with the son that raged
And took his wives and took his bed
And wanted now to take his crown.
Deal gently with young Absalom.

And when it came that Absalom
Was caught up in the trees and hung
Halfway somewhere between earth and
Heaven while his mule went on,
The soldiers came and killed the boy.

But Absalom is safe? said the
King when news of victory came.
May all who fight against you, King,
Become like Absalom now is.

The king fled to his room and cried.

And underneath the broom tree he,
Elijah, faithful one in few,
Lay his head and wished to die.
But at his side a soft voice said,
Get up, Elijah, take and eat.

And there beside him was some food,
A cake baked on hot stones and a
Jar of water. He ate and drank
And lay his head down once again
And slept that he might die.

Again the voice: Get up and eat.
The journey is too much for you.

And so Elijah took and ate,
And then he rose and went up to
Mount Horeb, there to meet with God.

I am the bread of life, he said.
Whoever eats of me won’t die.
His followers were troubled, said,
This is a difficult teaching;
Whoever can accept it?

The bread of life looked out on men
To see if there were any who
Understood or who sought God.
Seeing none, he offered up
His body as the sacrifice.

My Son, my Son.
My God, my God.
Out of the depths, we cry.

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