The crimson fluid drops,
Pumped from his wounded heart.
From His side, palms, and feet,
The blood crawls on the cross,
And clears the scars of sin;
And frees the heart from guilt.
On the cross, his arms open wide,
Inviting me for a warm hug.
But the face is marred, badly bruised;
His body sweats blood and water.
His hands ache, hanging from the wood;
And the wood firm, stuck to the earth.
His form is gone. Scarring!
Scared by the pain; the peace
On a face gripped by love.
Though love is harsh on him,
But saves me from the death.
Strange to love; or be loved!
Shame and pain he bears for the world
As he’s nailed for sin on the cross.
God, the father’s pleased with his death,
For by it, his true love will blaze;
And the world might find in Jesus,
A friend that gave his all for all.
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