King of Kings
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A bountied kiss and reward of its claim
killed a Son and King mocked in crown of thorns -
not Jew or Gentile would forget his name
nor wash away that holy blood of scorn.
King to an everlasting possession -
a kingdom come from the clouds of heaven
who, mute unto my own intercession,
feeds me on the bread and crumbs of leaven.
Save me for a ransom and hear my cry
lest I not see my life’s reformation,
and lift me up lest you leave me to die
in the wilderness of my creation.
Was on the carried cross at Calvary
a holy man who lived and died for me?
Written: August 1992
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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