Poetry

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The day my King wore a crown

It was platted on His head in jest

If only on my head it were around

I could only be so blessed


I could not bear the authority

To save souls by giving my life

Christ left His throne of majesty

To heal me with His travail and strife


That crown tearing into His face

His blood running down

He bore it all to take my place

The day my King wore a crown


A mock trial an angry crowd

A soldiers whip in hand he squeezed

Spoke the Father of His Son that made Him proud

This is My Son in whom I AM pleased


Led to a post they stripped Him down

Forty lashes save one they gave

The day my King wore a crown

He endured the scourging strong and brave

The day my King wore a crown


Shouldering His cross the hill he climbed

Led to suffer without the gate

Mockery and jeering all the crowd chimed

Is this brutality my King's fate


I could not see His precious face

All I saw was the thorn filled crown

They nailed His hands and feet iin place

The day my King wore a crown


Six long hours of hanging on that cross

As the crowd gathered was about to begin

He died to redeem the lost

He took my place to forgive my sin


A soldier thrust a spear in His side

They laughed as they cut Him down

Strutting swords and spears with pride

The day my King wore a crown


My Jesus I will follow

Even when men shall run me down

I will speak Your Word as I go

And die for You if You allow

For it was for me You my King wore a crown

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