His Blood.
“He died on the cross for us,”
And so I’ve read and heard.
But I didn’t feel the impact in my heart,
Coz I din know how badly it could hurt.
I forgot that He was God,
But also completely man,
When He prayed to God to remove the cup,
Yet willingly obeyed His plan.
The whips on His body,
Hooks tearing His skin.
He was covered with blood,
Of righteousness, not sin.
As the hammer slammed,
The nail pierced in.
Look at your own hand,
And imagine the scene.
The sharp pointed edge,
Cutting through His flesh,
Pierced out from the other side,
And through the thick wooden plank.
Metal, sweat,
Flesh and blood,
With splinters of wood -
All mixed up.
No, that wasn’t enough,
Three times it went,
Flesh and Blood,
Metal and sweat.
They pulled up the cross,
It stood with a jerk.
Imagine the pain,
As He hung by the nails.
Sun and rain,
Rain and Sun.
Heat on His skin,
Blood dripped on the ground.
The clouds rolled in,
The sky turned dark,
“It is accomplished.”
He had finished His task.
