Thursday, October 8, 2009



Crown of Thorns

They pressed upon His holy brow
A wicked crown of thorns
That brow knew only innocence
From the day that He was born

He grew up as a tender shoot
A pure and gentle Lamb
And He walked among the sons of men
Salvation in His hands

He healed the sick, He raised the dead
He preached good news to the poor
A kingdom of love and righteousness
Now who could ask for more

But they pressed upon that gentle brow
A wicked crown of thorns
And nailed Him to a cross of wood
Who never did them harm

He called them brothers, called them friends
And even as He died
He prayed , "Father forgive them, they don't know what they do".
While Mary knelt and cried.

But the story does not end there, my friend
For He rose up from the grave
And His arms are opened wide , my friend
Every living soul to save.

Oh Love of God so sure and true
Oh river deep and wide
A fountain opened up for all
On the day that Jesus died

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