Carpenter working, sunup to sundown.
Roman soldiers commanding more stakes, to be found.
Christians to die on Golgotha’s hill.
Your job is to give me more wood, from your mill.
I cannot do this thing you ask.
My hands only work for my God and His task.
Then at your word you’ll see your last
You’re a carpenter, will this be you’re past…
You want me to give you a stake for my son.
No!
This shall never be done…
And if you hang me, on a cruel tree.
My God in heaven will set me free…
I am a carpenter, but I don’t work for thee!
~Marla Shaw O’Neill 9.20.2015©