that soon He should depart.
He loved them all unto the last,
him tugging at His heart.
The devil having done his thing,
his heel was lifted up;
but this thing, too, was given Him –
and us if we would sup.
He laid His garments to the side.
A towel He made His girdle.
With water in a basin now,
He'd overcome this hurdle.
Their feet He took them in His hands
and washed them every one.
He washed their feet though they were
clean
except for Simon's son.
He came to Simon. Peter said,
“Lord, do You wash my
feet?”
“What I do now you do not know.”
(Be patient. Keep your seat.)
“Never shall You wash my feet.”
(I'll never stand for that.)
“If not, with Me you'll have no part.
You don't know what I'm at.”
“Not just my feet – my hands! my
head!”
(With You I need my part.)
Before He spoke, Jude noticed this –
his way His eyes did dart.
“Who's bathed needs nothing else to
do;
he's clean as clean can be,
but you're not all.” (Jude had a
fault
that just the two could see.)
The covenant was made in stealth
so only he would know.
The darting eyes spoke otherwise.
Here's what those eyes did show.
They showed that Jesus knew the tale
that only Jude should tell,
but this He kept between them two –
He'd taught them this as well.
He'd taught them, “If a brother fail,
to him go tell his fault;
and more than that, for your sake, too,
forgive him as you ought.”
So now His eyes accomplished that;
his washing did it, too.
Examples of these lessons, here,
He gave for me and you.
But if our heart is hardened
against those we have judged,
our mind's made up and nothing said
can ever make us budge,
if forever we're against them,
and we always hold the grudge,
in the arteries of life we serve
as nothing more than sludge.
Jude heard the words of Jesus.
He's the only one who could
because He kept it private –
that's the way He said they should.
So taking up His garments
and once again His seat,
He asked them if they understood
regarding washing feet.
Of course they couldn't understand
the example He had given,
but afterward they'd hear the tale
and know that Judas was forgiven.
And now the hour was well advanced
for Him to take His leave.
He'd go the way His Father said
and leave them all to grieve.
He'd eat the bread His Father gave
(the work that He should do).
He'd give His life for all the world;
His Father gave it, too.
But that the scripture be fulfilled,
He should not eat alone.
One should eat His bread with Him,
and that one of His own.
The scripture said that it should be
whose heel was lifted up –
the one who should deliver Him,
and that way share His cup.
With trespass now forgiven him,
they two could share His bread –
the devil wouldn't call the shots,
but Jesus would instead.
It troubled Him to think of it
(the woe not His alone);
the one He saved would rue his life,
his flesh and, too, his bone.
The servant's not the greater
nor is he that one does send,
but the greater is received
by who receives him in the end.
He told them one should give Him up,
and that one of the twelve.
Although each asked if it was he,
no further did they delve –
except for Simon Peter.
Simon beckoned to his son
to ask of Jesus secretly
which one should be the one.
And after he had asked Him,
the Lord said here's the sign:
the one who gets this sop
when I have dipped it in the wine.
And after He had dipped it,
He gave it to the one
who just then asked the question –
He gave to Simon's son.
Flesh and Blood were given,
and the last became the first:
an end would come to hunger,
an end would come to thirst.
Judas only filled the bill;
He couldn't choose another.
He had to choose and send the one
who was His new, gained brother.
Having then received the sop,
then Satan entered in.
The adversary came to tempt
and battle from within.
“Is it I should give You up?”
(You cast that from my heart!)
“Do as you've said and quickly now,
by Scripture it's your part.”
So at the words of Jesus,
he got up from his place.
Jude's act of glorifying
all would think a great disgrace.
Having then received the sop,
he went out; it was night.
With both God and Satan in him,
he'd reacted to his plight.
Things of men and things of God
were whirling in his head.
One question he considered,
would it be better to be dead?
Destined for perdition,
the condition he'd been in,
he'd come to hate this life of his;
it was a life of sin.
Yet, Jesus came to save him –
this he'd heard Him say.
Could He really save one
who'd gone so far astray?
Now it hardly mattered;
his course he now had set –
he'd plod this road unto the end
despite his deep regret.
He really couldn't say to Him,
“Lord, I've changed my mind.”
When Jesus spoke, “You've said,”
it seemed as if to bind.
He'd heard the words of Simon,
“Lord, be it far from Thee;”
and now he had that spirit
from which teaching said to flee.
“This shall not be unto Thee!”
How could he say these words,
when Jesus had recoiled at them
as not of God but for the birds?
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