I looked into my mirror tonight
And deep within it there,
I saw the face of the Savior
And I couldn't help but stare.

I saw the anguish in His eyes
And I couldn't understand
What brought such sorrow to His face,
As He stretched out His nail-pierced hand.

I listened then as He spoke to me
His voice was tender but sad,
"Oh, where, dear child, did you hide them
The talents that once you had?"

I gave you a class of little tots
To lovingly care for and teach.
Their hearts were so young and tender,
They would have been easy to reach.

And when you were tired of them you said,
You'd have to take a rest.
You promised you'd use your talent
But you failed to stand the test.

I gave you a voice to sing in the choir,
So faithful were you to attend,
And many a heart was lifted
As your voice with the others did blend.

And when you were tired of the choir you said
You just couldn't sit up there.
You promised you'd use your talent,
But you just left an empty chair.

I gave you a smile to show the world,
And a tender heart filled with love.
You witnessed so freely to all whom you'd meet
And told of your Savior's love.

And when you were tired of this talent you said
That men's hearts were just too dead.
You promised you'd be a winner of souls,
But became grumbling and bitter instead.

And I saw His stricken face
And heard the words He spoke to me,
My heart was filled with shame and grief,
That my life could so empty be.

Then, as I watched His image there
My eyes behold a rough old tree.
I saw the crown of thorns He wore,
As He hung on that cross for me.

So many things He'd promise me
Salvation -- a Home up above,
Eternal life with Him some day,
All paid for with His love.

But what if He should get weary
Of the foolishness and delay?
And decide that we're not worth the price
That it cost to buy us that day?

And as His image faded away,
I begged Him not to depart.
I couldn't let my feeble excuses
Just crowd Him out of my heart.

I fell on my knees and I cried to Him there
To give me another start,
That my life might reflect the Christ of the cross,
In the mirror of some other heart.

© Ruth Sutherland

(Mrs. Ruth Sutherland went home to
be with Jesus in June 2005. Her dear
husband, Mr. Earl Sutherland, can be
reached via her email address for
comments regarding her poems)