A leather whip to rip and tear,
Tied to a post, no mercy prayer.
Each metal tip bites flesh and bone,
Each vicious blow, our sins atone.
A crown of thorns that pierce His brow,
Each drop of blood repays a vow.
Spit upon, beaten, pushed to the ground,
This humble man in earthly crown.
Yet He gets up, He must fulfill,
All He came for, His Father’s will.
Again He falls from angry blows,
Still He must drink, His cup of woes.
Upon a hill He ends His quest,
While the legions make mocking jests.
They tear His clothes and throw Him down,
Onto His cross that’s on the ground.
Each nail bites deep yet no protest,
While sins are cast far east to west.
One nail driven through feet so bruised,
This for a man falsely accused.
Hung on His cross, barely alive,
He cries “Father, my end’s arrived.”
“Forgive them now for what they’ve done,
They never knew, they killed your Son.”
The clouds grow thick, the earthquakes sent
The temple’s veil has now been sent.
He bowed His head then finally said,
“It is finished.” Then He was dead.
He’s taken down, put in a tomb,
While His family cleans His wounds.
They seal the door in hopes He stays,
As sentries watch all night and day.
Three days later a mighty boom,
A blinding light comes from the tomb.
They fear to look if He’s within,
But when they do they scream “RISEN!”
While some still think that’s not enough,
They try to add some other stuff.
Their end is vain cause that’s insane,
In all His pain all sins were slain.
No man that lived could suffer more,
Than our Jesus who is our door.
For He alone is all you need,
To quell sin’s curse so we are freed.
So come to Him, He’s all you need.
You may send your comments and encouragement to Robert Zukowski at:
Robert Zukowski / GH7444
PO Box 33028 St. Petersburg, FL. 33733