Would you leave a friend upon the field?  Or perhaps pay for a stranger to be healed.  What then of those left not knowing God?  Odd, that you would care not their names, their sin and trial.  All the while, worshiping the Lord who loves them without end.  Turned His eye away from a Son, undeserving of the death He faced, disgraced upon a tree for humanity to spit upon and shame.  Am I to blame, as He hung their suffering for the weight of my sin, taking in all that is evil in man’s inhuman history.  What a divine mystery that such would bare my plight, in exchange for my belief, exchanged for relief from the sting of death and hell.  What am I to tell the man with no hope?  What is the scope of my responsibility, duty, allegiance and love?  Is it love that resembles His for me or am I the tree bearing no fruit, worthless salt, spent for trampling?  They wander bye as I watch their quest for an eternity separated from the God they have sought since birth.  What is my salvation worth if not the moments, the words, blessings, prayers and cares for them as God numbers their hairs, patiently waiting for their arrival?  Who and what shall I become if I succumb to the calls and identities the world offers.  Hurled head long into a story, not about glory but about my own fattened soul, holding myself above all that is Holy.  Solely spent for treasures meant for His intention, without mention of my eternal purpose.  What are my songs worth if not to honor the giver of voice, music, pause and peace?  When I cease to be let me be with He that is known as the Living God, the Great I AM, Almighty.  For without His hand all I’ve done and planned is simply sand passing through the hour glass of time and reason.  His reason is my rhyme, His time my measure, His hope my pleasure, His love the end and answer to my search.  For I was the friend He refused to leave upon the field that cold August morn.