In death, we're born; our lives seem torn; where's hope for man on earth?
We walk in scorn, yes tired and worn; we fail, do we have worth?
The Son, no groan from whips, no moan, He died for us instead.
No broken bone, now laid on stone; the cross - our lives He wed.
For us, He cries; His work broke lies; cast sins from east to west.
With blood, He buys, yes, mercy eyes; He grants us all His best.
He took on death; He's endless breath; He rose triumphant, sure.
New life bequeath; we're back from death, His righteous blood our cure!
For mercy rains; covers our stains, a gift From God on high.
Where mercy reigns, it never wanes: His love does answer "Why?"
So faith's our rope that brings us hope, the work is all our Lord's.
This life we cope, we cross death's slope - hearts with musical chords.
Our heart's hit highs with endless rise, with Him now and ever!
Our grateful eyes meet loving eyes - praise to God forever!
This poem was a finalist in the
March 2024 poetry contest