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by Janette Lueveen

The image of His suffering I cannot erase
Image of blood pouring down His face

That leather whip laced with metal and stone
As penance for me, Christ bore this alone

Thorns from a crown forced into his brow
How He withstood the pain, I know not how

A scepter for my King merely a crooked staff
Our Lord was mocked and jeered on my behalf

Across His shoulder lay a crossbeam burden
God responded by ripping the temple curtain

Elongated Spikes driven into His wrists
Torture for the Savior, His betrayer had kissed

Legs twisted in an awkward direction
A life which had walked in absolute perfection

Into his feet more spikes were driven
Allowing your sins and mine to be forgiven

Agonizing hours Christ endured for you and me
All for the purpose of proclaiming us free

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