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spiritual
Atop this post
Hung our God
Lord of host
Body unclad
Head sharply
Crowned with pain
beat with rod
his holy blood
freely flowed
Stretched to being spent, his joints were rent, dyspepsia, disease all he did not bemoan, abraded for our offense, deep contusions for our wickedness. Agony pierced his palm from east to west; his love, his embrace took our disgrace. We did not recognize his face; his arms are still in that place of openness, forgiveness, deliverance, and healing. He took our place at
the cross road
of sentencing
he bore our grief
from head to feet
north to south
it is all covered
there is no more
defeat no more
sheep to bleat
no sacrifice
he paid in full
what we could
ne’er afford
so come to the
cross of our
savior come
and be saved
come, and be
washed in his
blood come and
be healed
come.
