In The Upper Room
Helen Weshimer
Perhaps at first they talked of little things
At suppertime that evening in the spring.
The upper room was dim with candle-shine
As Jesus sat with the twelve, remembering.
Then quietly He said, “There is one here
Whose kiss will bring betrayal by and by.”
They did not look at Judas curiously,
But each man murmured, “Master, is it I?”
Each one looked inward, frightened lest he find
A shoddy place where he had dreamed of steel.
None placed the guilt on any other guest
Who had partaken of that gracious meal.
When there are hungry on my little street,
When I see tears or hear a heart’s hurt cry
Because someone has failed to keep high faith,
May I, too, murmur, “Master, is it I?”
From “The Glory of Easter”, Melinda Rathjen, Editor
Published by Ideals, a Guidepost company, 2009
