Deeper and deeper into My brow
Go the thorns of the crown
They have woven for Me.
"Of what is it made?" you quietly ask Me.
Of all the deeds and misdeeds,
All the intentions not come to be,
Of all the unacknowledged sins and selfish pride that blinds the eye to see.
Love dies for these.
I have a chance now to weave thorns of unrepented sins and add them to Your crown,
or to fall on my knees weeping for what I did not do for Thee.
I carefully reach for the crown on His head yet He gently chastises me,
“No, My child, you cannot carry this for Me.”
My words in your heart and My love in your soul - these you carry to set others free.
Now go, into the crowds and bring them here to Me.
Stand with them bravely and gently as they gaze on this Tree.
Share the sorrow and pain of the Son of God broken for thee.
diane hallenbeck
Holy Week 2018
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