Behold the Lamb

The whip cracked loud—each savage blow
left rivers where the blood would flow;
A robe of purple, rough with hate,
clung to His wounds beneath its weight.

A crown of thorns, each piercing deep,
made Heaven’s hosts in sorrow weep;
And on His back the timber lay,
its splinters marking mercy’s way.

The nails tore through with ringing sound,
as flesh and iron kissed the ground;
The cross was raised, the sky went black,
the sun turned cold, creation cracked.

He gasped for breath, yet would not flee,
each word He spoke—eternity;
The cup was drained, the debt was done,
the grave was lost, the war was won.

So still your soul, and lift your eyes,
to Love that bled for all our lies;
The crown, the cross, the crimson span—
where God stooped low to rescue man.

If this poem stirred something in your heart, remember that the deepest roots grow from God’s Word itself. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11). If you’d like simple, practical help in tucking Scripture into memory…

👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419