The only things in Heaven
Which mortal man has made
Are scars upon
That precious One
On whom our sins were laid.
They’re handiworks of us all
Who ever walked the Earth,
And those to come,
Both saint and bum,
We’re sinners from our birth.
Yet, God sent His only Son
To suffer in our place;
Woe to the one
Who scars His Son,
Then spurns His saving grace.
Must Christ bear the scars alone
And those He saved go unmarred?
Should not each saint,
Without restraint
In serving Him, be scarred?
      © J. G. Braddock Sr.

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J. G. Braddock Sr.
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