thorns

about these things

wthorns

Thorns

There was no hint of beauty
in the crown of thorns He wore,
as His sacred head was bleeding
and the crowd cried out for more;
No loveliness in Jesus
as He hung on Calvary’s tree,
but the cross He bore
and the thorns He wore
make Him beautiful to me.

When the thorns that I encounter
pierce my heart with grief and pain,
I will lift my eyes to Jesus;
He’ll renew my strength again.
As I lean upon my Jesus
He will make my trials grow dim;
and my heartfelt plea
and my bended knee
make me beautiful to Him.

Poem by Connie Faust

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