(By Rachel Joyce)
“Take heart,”
He told His own,
“I have overcome the world.”
Then He raised His eyes
To His Father in heaven and prayed,
“Father, the hour has come.
Glorify your Son, so He can give
Glory back to you.”
Glory?
What lay ahead
Was the abuse of men and
The judgment of God.
The hour had come; it was the hour
Of the power of darkness,
When all seemed lost, evil prevailed, and
God’s Son bore our sin.
He hung,
Feet and hands nailed
To the old, rough wooden cross
His head adorned
With a circlet of sharp, jagged thorns,
His back shredded and bleeding
His heart heavy with our shame and guilt,
Alone on that cross.
For you
He endured this
Agony, this suffering.
For me, He died.
Willingly He chose the thorns, the nails
To provide full redemption
So we could belong in His family,
Forever His own.
Glory!
He purged our sins,
Made us God’s cherished children,
Banished our darkness
The cross-work complete, He rose to life
Take heart! He has overcome,
Given us a future bright with hope,
Filled with glory.
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