John Leroy Maxwell
The Price - Poem by John Leroy Maxwell
Thirty pieces of silver; Dear Lord what a price..
And His Saviors Scarlet Cloak, they wagered with dice..
Thirty pieces of silver He threw on the ground..
And He cursed the high Heaven, with a language profound..
Thirty pieces of silver, the Last Supper surveyed..
His hand ever trembling, with His life He doth paid..
Thirty pieces of silver, Desciples so near; who worried
and wondered, their face taut with fear..
Thirty pieces of silver, He touched with His hand..
In Garden Gethsemane, Roman soldiers understand..
Thirty pieces of silver, on the 'morn there to die..
On the Hill Calvery, the Huge Cross Crucify..
Thirty pieces of silver, two nails in His hand..
Two nails thru His arches; between two Thieves there to stand..
Thirty pieces of silver, no Soul to be saved..
To suffer in darkness, Eternally Enslaved..
Thirty pieces of silver, think not of thyself..
Thirty pieces of silver, be not Eternally Engulfed..
Comments about The Price by John Leroy Maxwell
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You