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Glory


Photo Credit: Benjamin Joyce

(By Rachel Joyce)


“Take heart,”

He told His own,

“I have overcome the world.”

Then He raised His eyes

To His Father in heaven and prayed,

“Father, the hour has come.

Glorify your Son, so He can give

Glory back to you.”


Glory?

What lay ahead

Was the abuse of men and

The judgment of God.

The hour had come; it was the hour

Of the power of darkness,

When all seemed lost, evil prevailed, and

God’s Son bore our sin.


He hung,

Feet and hands nailed

To the old, rough wooden cross

His head adorned

With a circlet of sharp, jagged thorns,

His back shredded and bleeding

His heart heavy with our shame and guilt,

Alone on that cross.


For you

He endured this

Agony, this suffering.

For me, He died.

Willingly He chose the thorns, the nails

To provide full redemption

So we could belong in His family,

Forever His own.


Glory!

He purged our sins,

Made us God’s cherished children,

Banished our darkness

The cross-work complete, He rose to life

Take heart! He has overcome,

Given us a future bright with hope,

Filled with glory.