Pierced by nails and thorns,
Whipped, abused and scorned,
Bearing in himself my sin,
Jesus hung despised, condemned.
Now I rise to make
Music for his sake..
Free from guilt, from gnawing shame--
Holy now, I praise his name.
He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, so that, having died to sins, we might live for righteousness; by His wounding you have been healed.
--1 Peter 2:24, HCSB
Poem and photos ©2009 James L. Swindle.
You may print up to 100 copies for non-profit use, so long as you include this notice.