Poetry

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We have all strayed like sheep,
Each one goes his own way;
Tending to oversleep,
After we go astray.

We laid sin on the Lord,
Was punished and abused;
His cries had been ignored,
When beaten and was used.

But His mouth did not sip,
Being led to slaughter;
No poison touched His lip,
Not a drop of water.

He was still like a sheep,
When they cut off His wool;
Never hearing a peep,
Even thought treated cruel.

For He was arrested,
And was taken away;
Because would be tested,
Judged the following day.

Who would have ever thought,
That the world be improved;
With crucifixion sought,
If this man were removed.

Rebellion was instilled,
With Him being alive;
So Rome wanted Him killed,
Deciding to contrive.

He was placed in a grave,
Where the wicked had lied;
So the Father would save,
The guilty that had cried.

But the Lord will still smash,
Sufferings of the wrong;
Throwing out with the trash,
Where the wicked belong.

His Spirit will acquit,
Many sinners to share;
Confessing to admit,
Rebellious acts to bear.

Copyright © 2017 Richard Newton Sherrer

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