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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #611403
This is a poem about the greatest love, the love of God for a poor lost sinner.
It was His own blood that He shed for me,
that I might live with Him eternally.
It was His own body that He gave
my filthy wretched soul to save.
It was His spirit that felt that day
the Heavenly Father turn away.

It was my sin that He bore
He became my Heavenly cure.
I was the one who should have died.
It should have been me that was crucified.
He willingly took my place
with tears of love streaming down His face.

Why did He take my cross for me
when I was to Him an enemy?
How could he die, I was not His friend,
yet He loved me to the very end.
From that cross His words rang through
Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.
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