• Body Guards

  

• People of the Second Advent

  

• Who Touched Me

  

• The Ark, Covenant, Mass and Mary

  

• Be the Son

  

• Our Victim-King a poem

  Upon the wood, He shed His blood
  For a sinner such as me.

  It was my crimes against His love
  That took Him to Calvary.
   

  Innocent as a lamb, O Christ,
  You ached with all my shame.
  The pain and lashes of the whips

  should have been my pain.

  
  When you were bruised and beaten,
  my selfishness You bore.
  They mocked Your kingly dignity
  To appease my lust for "more."
  
  A blindfold hid Your sorrowful gaze
  Because of where my eyes had strayed,
  And a robe of royal color hid
  The immodesty I displayed.
  
  Every Thorn dug in Your head
  Paid for a sin of mine,
  The bias and contemp I showed,
  The needs to which I was blind.
• Every lie and self-deceit,
  Every wondering thought,
  Added weight on to Your cross
  And heartache to Your lot.
  
  My ingratitude was heard 
  In every hammer blow.
  They heaved Your Body high
  Because I had fallen low.
  
  Marred by tortures, wet with blood,
  Straining for each breath,
  All my faults heaped on You, Lord,
  And all died in Your death.
  
  You, sweet Savior, took my place
  And all that I deserved,
  Cleansed me through Your sufferings
  And showed me love unearned.
  
  Now, my dearest God and King,
  I live to sing Your praise,
  To follow in Your footsteps, Lord,
  And love You all my days.
  
  by: Dawn S., OFS - Mary Queen of Franciscans Fraternity