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                     The Victim...

I had committed many wrongs and one worthy of death.
       I sat at the defendantís table, anxious and reaching for breath.
At the table to my right sat the victim, a man who was large and strong.
       Heíd been the victim of a violent crime and had done nothing wrong.
During the trial he sat there silent, somber, straight and tall.
       He just listened to the evidence, saying nothing at all.
In front of us was the Judge, powerful and regal.
       My soul seemed transparent and hiding the truth, futile.
Finally the trial was over, my pitiful excuses failed.
       Every detail came forth and absolute truth prevailed.

The Jury found me guilty, they called for my life.
       I looked around the courtroom and saw my dear wife.
My wife and family were weeping, the rest seemed understanding.
       But in their hearts, they knew it was fair what the Jury was demanding.
As I sat there alone and looking about,
       I was scared and I wanted to scream out.
Ohhh, if only I could look good in the Judgeís sight.
       Why hadnít I always done what I knew in my heart was right?
If only my wrongs could be forgiven or excused.
       But what I had done could not be undone or defused.

It was then that the victim raised his hand,
       "I plead for mercy for this condemned man."
Suddenly the courtroom was still as shock filled the air.
       The Judge looked and said, "You want mercy? I am a Judge! I have to be fair!"
Then after a moment the Judge spoke again, "No one could ask for mercy but you.
       For it would be unfair for anyone except you!
For this condemned man, are you sure mercy is the right call?
       For mercy and fairness are not the same thing at all!"
"Iím sure," he said as he nodded his head.
       Then the Judge granted the plea of mercy instead.
So from the hangman I was spared, but who was this man in the victimís chair?
       He seemed so familiar, but I knew not from where!

As I looked him over and tried to remember, suddenly I realized his feet were bare.
His hands, he had kept folded throughout the trial.
But now they were out and one was raised in the air. 
       On top of his feet and on the back of his hands, 
I saw he had terrible scars and I wondered how they got there?
       Still, ...who was this man that pleaded for me?
Then slowly he turned and looked at me.
       Suddenly, my mind was made clear and I could see!
I knew Him in an instant, my heart began to pound!
       The teachings of my mother came back true and profound!
It was Him! He was the One!
       He was my Savior! He was The Fatherís Son!

   "I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain;
   I am your advocate with the Father." D&C 110:4

       Officer Samuel Jeppsen, #3751, Nov. 1997


Read "Think About it..." Online Warrior Stories  | Excerpts | News Articles | Poems
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