Eternal Timber

The Cross is our crutch: we are lamed and maimed,
Crippling sin in our soul,
Defiled and scourged, our faith defamed,
Golgotha our gloried goal.

The Cross is a bludgeon for smiting down
Death in his sable gown.
It’s Roman-hewn and Jesus-borne,
Encircled with blood-flecked thorn.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Smith Avatar
February 4, 2010 at 9:51 AM
i like this poem and im not sure why im your only comment, this poem was intellegently written, keep it up! =)
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