Good Friday (poem by me)

My heart keeps repeating,
When I close my eyes,
I keep on seeing,
A man of sorrows,
Broken and bleeding.

I offer an embrace,
To lend some comfort,
As He hangs in disgrace,
And He looks up at me,
With blood on His face.

Can my faith really reach,
Through time to soothe Him,
As He hangs by a thief,
Though He is blameless,
And acquainted with grief.

He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. —Isaiah 53:3

*Has God called you to pray for the nations? Prayer for the world is made easy with this free ebook:  Beseeching Grace: An International Prayer Collection.

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