Messiah came as little boy.
Amazing looks did not employ.
So sorrowful, despised of men.
Afflicted, couldn’t seem to win.
Bruised and beaten, bloody mass
His earthly Day was seen to pass.
He had no sin that stole His youth,
but took on ours, fulfilling Truth.
Travailing Lord upon the cross
the smelter’s cauldron took the dross.
The punishment He bore for all,
Mercy, Grace, the Savior’s call.
He prayed for me to ever save
in victory o’er the cursed grave.
Christ’s saddest days were numbered, three,
but now alive He lives to free.
by Jay O’Toole
on April 3rd, 2019
Poems About Jesus 