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WOUNDS |
![]() ![]() ![]() His feet, which nails held fast to stay ![]() ![]() ![]() He wore a crown of thorns, not gold, ![]() ![]() ![]() The side a lance had split apart, ![]() ![]() ![]() Oh, would that all the wounds that scored ![]() ![]() ![]() |
by Stephen Wentworth Arndt, Ph.D.
[ Carry Each Other's Burdens | Rejoice in Hope | Rejoice With Those Who Rejoice | Owe No Debt To Anyone | Accept Each Other | If One Member Suffers | Earthen Vessels | Forgive As The Lord Has Forgiven You | Be An Example To Believers | Keep Yourself Pure ]
[ Supper | Gethsemane | Betrayal | Denial | Ironies | Wounds | Surrender | Tomb | Doubt | Ascension | Christ ]
This poem is © Copyright 2002 by Stephen Wentworth Arndt, Ph.D.
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