Our friend is delivered from a painful death |
Our friend was wandering in the streets When he heard a trumpet bleat. With a shout An angel commanded For him to come out And be reprimanded Our friend's frail heart began to melt. The presence of death was easily felt. He walked out slowly To the judgement place. He believed wholly That he'd finished his race. The angel inquired, "Why have ye dirt on your clothes? You're covered in filth from your head to your toes." I thought about my loss, Then I heard the angel say, "You belong to the cross, But here you'd better stay." He was confused by why he'd been accepted When he deserved to be rejected. The angel cried, "You've been replaced Lest you had died While in disgrace." So he observed, as they led One away To die his death, that he might stay. They spat on Him And whipped His back. His face grew dim. His flesh did crack. They placed on Him a crown of twisted thorns. It was too much, our friend began to mourn. "Why would He, With clothes so white, Decide to free A man of no might?" They nailed Him to that tree so grim When our friend knew that it should have been him. His clothes were tossed Into the mud That our friend might be washed By His blood. Because of the man named Jesus, he now had worth. It was the day that he experienced a new birth.. He felt so new! He felt so well! He knew what was true, And others he'd tell. |