Easter Poetry

Easter Poetry

Gazing at the wonder of the Cross

As we approach the most glorious time in the Christian’s calendar, I’ll post some poems I have written on the subject. The first is in response to the Word that tells us Jesus still bears the wounds in His body (He showed them to the disciples when He appeared to them). The second is because we are told He is constantly interceding for us. I hope you enjoy it.


Oh, to think that I, with all my stains of darkness

Could stand before a God of white-hot holiness

And not be burned.

What holy wounds that gain for me

An entrance to the King!

For Christ in all his glory, stays injured still for me

His hands and feet, though brilliant bright

Stay pierced and raw through all my sin

And plead each day my cause.

For as I sin, and blot my soul, and then repentant come

His Father from His awesome throne

Looks down and sees his Son.

He sees His Son take on my guilt and then it’s penalty

He looks at me through holy wounds

And says, “My son, you’re free.”

I’m free indeed and yet not free.

I’m tethered by a bond so strong

That holds me ever in his arms.

For how could I ignore a love so great

And go my selfish way?

Those holy wounds produce in me

The prayer spoke in Gethsemane

“Let not my will, but Thine be done.”

Come, live through me, beloved Son.

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