Victory Is His Poem by R. K. Hart

They took Him before Pilate and asked, 'How do you plead'?
We want to know before we beat you till you bleed.
He knew not how to begin,
For you see He had no sin.

They beat upon Him till His flesh gave way to bone,
And the sin of men was more likely shown.
The cat had ripped and torn away,
Faraway into the ugly day.

They ceased not until the cobbles were blood strewn,
And this beautiful son of man was an ugly ruin.
Soldiers cast a rugged cross upon his mauled being,
Across torn back and head where blood impeded seeing.

He stumbled but carried this cross to the place of the skull,
Through His palms and feet He was nailed with iron dull.
Shamed, He was speared and crowned with thorns.
Upon Him my sin and that of every man was born.

A black day saw His Father turn away,
Placed in a grave that was not His He arose the third day.
He later spoke to dear friends and those He loved,
And arose to sit with His Father above.

Now He calls me to accept His saving gift,
Admit my sin, seek forgiveness, and heal the rift.
So my dear reader, have you accepted His work,
Hurry dear friend do it now please do not shirk.