Scourged, flesh ripped

and torn.

Painted in red

shades of

People’s Scorn.

He had struggled

with the heavy load,

Man’s sins

built him this

dreadful road.

 

Falling, bleeding,

crowned in

thorny pain,

Lashing whips

showed the

Roman’s disdain.

 

He needed help

with the cross

he bore,

Who was

this Man

to die for?

 

The skull was

the place

of His final steps,

Nailed to His purpose

He showed us

His depths.

 

Mocking elders of

His Chosen People,

Had stung

His dying heart

with this evil,

 

But in His eyes

there was love

for all to see,

Forgiving His slayers

on this

Friday of Victory!

Advertisements