By His wounds

Posted bySmith Shine PoetryPosted inPraiseTags:, , , , , , , 
Palm leaves reach out in worship
for they knew, just who He was.
He flipped tables in the den of thief's.
He showed his way the truth. 
Broke bread and explained of a no greater love
then betrayed with a kiss.
Snatched in the dark, a snatch in secret.
Found guilty of His innocence, denied by His friends.
Cheers of victory as the metal ripped His flesh.
Embraces the cross He would hang upon 
a testimony to the truth.
From oil to their feet to nails through His hands.
They curse and mock as He makes all things new.
By His wounds we are healed.

Published by Smith Shine Poetry

I am my poetry, my poetry is me. I pray what I believe. I believe what I pray.

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