The Ground Bled

He stood alone.

Red fell from His face.

He walked past the crowds.

A crown of thrones for His disgrace.

 

Souls were numb.

Eyes were cold.

Hearts were hardened.

The young and old.

 

Cuts were open.

Lingering sting.

Dirtied and broken

No refuge or wing.

 

Wooden boards laden

His shoulders given.

Heart heavy

A weighted burden.

 

Few cried for Him

when He moaned and wailed.

Did any pray

as His wrists were nailed?

 

“It is done,”

with His one last breath.

The ground bled

at the sound of His death.

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This was Grace

given to us.

A life for lives

we do not discuss.

 

He arose

joining the Father.

When He returns

who will bother?

 

The ground is bleeding still.

Blood of saints cries.

Reaching His ears.

When trumpet sounds they arise.

 

The earth will run red.

Wrath will not be quenched.

As fire rains down.

Fallen will be drenched.

 

All knees will bow.

No one else can plead.

The glory be His.

Last time the ground will bleed.

 

We’ll praise His glory.

Remember His life shed.

No one will forget

the day the ground bled.


And Remember...Be The Salt Of The earthAnd The Light On The HillWe Are His Branches1

Monthly Scripture – (NIV) Galatians 6:17, “From now on, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.”

*** Community Prayer Request | September ’18 – Join Me In Praying For Each Other And If You Have A Request To Add Let Me Know. 

Second Blog: Peeking Beneath

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37 thoughts on “The Ground Bled

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