An Easter Poem

Deeper than Nails

It was my sin that held him to an open shame,
my transgression that held him there firmer then the nails
and drove deeper into his heart then the soldier’s spear.
On that darkened hill the hand of God reaches out,
out to the  groping crowds and blind masses.
There on that hill hung the Servant who is Prince of Peace,
the condemned who is my Wonderful Counselor,
the abandoned Son my Everlasting Father,
despised and rejected by  sinful men
Emmanuel the Mighty God and Savior.


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