Wednesday, March 01, 2006


While we begin this Season of Lent
Let us be mindful of the time Jesus spent
In meditation, prayer and fasting
To gift us with life everlasting.

He sweat beads of blood from His brow
And contemplating upon that now,
I am reminded of the stench of my sin;
He suffered and died ~ my soul to win.

His scourging grieves my soul to tears;
He suffered sorely among heartless jeers.
Relentless switches with whip of fire.
Lord Jesus, our souls Thou did so desire.

O wicked Crown of Thorn
Thy beautiful head did adorn !
Each one digging deep into your head,
O Lord, it should have been me instead.

Your own Cross they bid you carry
And they beat you lest you tarry.
Heavy wood cutting into your shoulder
With each step, their hearts grew colder.

They threw you upon the ground
Nails into your hands and feet were pound.
They hiked you high upon Cross so tall;
And for your thirst they offered you gall.

The seven last words that you had spoken
With bruised body, beaten, bloodied and broken
Are recorded in the Bible which we read today;
We honor your Passion as we meditatively pray.

In fear from that hill they fled
While thunder and lightening sped
Through the place of your death
Where you breathed your last breath;
Your public life was finally done.
For they killed you, God's Only Son.

Awaiting your promise that you will rise
On Easter Sunday amid joyous cries,
We trust in you our Lord and Savior
For the Glory your remnant shall savor.


© Mel Patterson, Ash Wednesday, March 1, 2006

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