JustOutsideOfTheCity
ofJerusalem there is
a hill of StoneAsDry
AsDeath. ThePlace of
the Skull, Golgotha.
2000 Years Ago, aMan
ofJerusalem there is
a hill of StoneAsDry
AsDeath. ThePlace of
the Skull, Golgotha.
2000 Years Ago, aMan
was scourged beyond
recognition. Mocked&
spat on, betrayed by
thoseHeLoved. He was
bent under the back
breaking weight of a
woodenDeviceOfDeath:
TheBrutalRomanCrossOfShame. OnTheRoad, TheViaDolorosa aManNamed
Simon stood,a bystander,passing by for passover, toRe-turn home
to Cyrene."You!" a Centurion said. "Help him!" TheCursed manHad
Fallen and lay in thePulp of HisOwn Flesh. SimonObeyed & Helped
TheMan toHisFeet. Side by side they Marched,dripping inTheBlood
ofTheCursed. His piercingEyes Drilled into Simons soul with the
tender gentleness Of
a lamb. Such Grace,
so silent: He wasNot
LikeNormalCriminals.
UpTheDryMountainThey
climbed to WhereThey
laidHim down UponThe
brutalBeams of wood.
TheyNailed HisWrists
& Ankles to the tree
of terror and death.
KingOfTheJews, aSign
ReadToAllWhoPassedBy
& aThornyCrownPlaced
UponHisFurrowedBrow,
ShouldersDislocated,
shredded flesh upon
rough wood, HeFought
to take each breath.
"I'mThirsty!"HeCried
ButHeRefusedTheWine,
HeWouldNotLetThePain
be dulled. To God he
cried, theForsaken 1
and thereHe breathed
hisLast. StabbedWith
sword, heBledTheThin
blood ofDeath,juiced
likeFruit.TheyBuried
Him. Three Days pass
& hisGloryCameWhenHe
wasRaised fromDeath.
Like a seed He burst
forth withLife. What
a wonder to see this
Instrument of death,
twisted to the light
of life. aRuggedTree
on aDry hill ofDeath
boreThisStrangeFruit
ForTheGoodOfMankind.
recognition. Mocked&
spat on, betrayed by
thoseHeLoved. He was
bent under the back
breaking weight of a
woodenDeviceOfDeath:
TheBrutalRomanCrossOfShame. OnTheRoad, TheViaDolorosa aManNamed
Simon stood,a bystander,passing by for passover, toRe-turn home
to Cyrene."You!" a Centurion said. "Help him!" TheCursed manHad
Fallen and lay in thePulp of HisOwn Flesh. SimonObeyed & Helped
TheMan toHisFeet. Side by side they Marched,dripping inTheBlood
ofTheCursed. His piercingEyes Drilled into Simons soul with the
tender gentleness Of
a lamb. Such Grace,
so silent: He wasNot
LikeNormalCriminals.
UpTheDryMountainThey
climbed to WhereThey
laidHim down UponThe
brutalBeams of wood.
TheyNailed HisWrists
& Ankles to the tree
of terror and death.
KingOfTheJews, aSign
ReadToAllWhoPassedBy
& aThornyCrownPlaced
UponHisFurrowedBrow,
ShouldersDislocated,
shredded flesh upon
rough wood, HeFought
to take each breath.
"I'mThirsty!"HeCried
ButHeRefusedTheWine,
HeWouldNotLetThePain
be dulled. To God he
cried, theForsaken 1
and thereHe breathed
hisLast. StabbedWith
sword, heBledTheThin
blood ofDeath,juiced
likeFruit.TheyBuried
Him. Three Days pass
& hisGloryCameWhenHe
wasRaised fromDeath.
Like a seed He burst
forth withLife. What
a wonder to see this
Instrument of death,
twisted to the light
of life. aRuggedTree
on aDry hill ofDeath
boreThisStrangeFruit
ForTheGoodOfMankind.
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