The Hour Has Come
The hour has come salvations' plan to fulfil.
The time is here and I need to climb that hill.
Each painful step carrying a heavy cross;
There's no other way to pay sins awful cost.
I've been whipped scourged, forced to wear a crown of thorns
as men and priests jeer at me, while heaven mourns.
I hang upon the cross bearing this world's shame
to pay that awful price carrying away their shame.
And through the shearing pain of my nail pieced flesh
I plead to You to forgive their wickedness.
Father, forgive them; they know not what they do,
for I still love them, and know that You do too.
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Written after reading John 17: 1 After Jesus said this, he looked toward heaven and prayed: "Father, the hour has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you
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