The cross was heavy as He stumbled
A crown of thorns lay on His head
He was ridiculed and beaten
Crucify Him, the people said
His hands were nailed to the cross
How could He take anymore
The same hands that healed the sick
Were now bleeding and sore
His feet were nailed unto the cross
Untold pain and agony
The same feet that walked for miles
To preach the gospel in Galilee
In villages and synagogues
Jesus laid His hand upon the ill
Now hung from and old rugged cross
I can't imagine how Jesus feels
He looks into the Heavens
As His blood flows to the ground
The multitude just mocks Him
While He never makes a sound
The angels watched from the sky
As He took His last breath
And the sky turned dark as night
As Jesus gave in to death.
Jesus rests in His Father's arms
He don't hurt anymore
The same hands that healed the sick
Aren't bleeding and sore
He still works His miracles
Though we don't always understand
He can still heal with just one touch
Of His nailed scarred hand
ahhhh dear Linda, my friend, your spirituality grows with every poem you write and although I am agnostic I am often touched by the depth of your passion and faith. Huhs
Felix
He felt the pain, but was from all the sins that mankind had made; he did not feel the pain of the nails because His Father had given Him the strength and the courage.
In "A Touch of Your Presence" are words that would inspire, encourage and strengthen one's soul when faced with challenges and difficulties and to know the awesomeness of God's power.
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(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D
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