Poetry

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They pressed upon His holy brow
A wicked crown of thorns
That brow knew only innocence
From the day that He was born

He grew up as a tender shoot
A pure and gentle Lamb
And He walked among the sons of men
Salvation in His hands

He healed the sick, He raised the dead
Preached good news to the poor
A kingdom of love and righteousness
Now who could ask for more

But they pressed upon that gentle brow
A wicked crown of thorns
And nailed Him to a cross of wood
Who never did them harm

Oh Love of God so sure and true
Oh river deep and wide
A fountain opened up for all
On the day that Jesus died

He called them brothers, called them friends
And even as He died
He prayed , “Father forgive them, they don’t know what they do”.
As Mary knelt and cried.

But the story does not end there, my friend
For He rose up from the grave
And His arms are opened wide , my friend
Every living soul to save.

Oh, Peace on earth, good will towards men
The angels in heaven sang
And the love of God flowed to everyone
From the cross where Jesus hanged

They pressed upon His holy brow
A wicked crown of thorns
Forgiveness poured out from His wounds
The veil of heaven forever torn

And what of sin could stand against
The Father's endless love
The blood, water and Spirit
Reign from Christ enthroned above

All rule and power and authority
Every vestige of the fall
All gathered into one in Christ
All reconciled, God all in all.

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