By His Stripes

When troubles and burdens seem so hard to bear,
May we be like the little woman
That anointed Jesus with much care.
May it linger in our heart the love
He held that day on Golgotha Hill,
The price He paid for our sins
By our Father's own will.
By His stripes are we healed.

A precious man so humble and free from sin,
Willing to bear the cross for you and me.
The crown of thorns platted on His sweet head,
"Crucify Him, crucify Him," they said.
In humiliation being spit upon,
Bruised by the reed,
Pierced in the side He did bleed.
So humble was our Savior
That day when He was killed.
By His stripes are we healed.

How very sorrowful and heavy
His heart did become,
As He cried out for His Father's will to be done.
His sweat became as great drops of blood.
Father let this cup pass from me,
Not my will but Thine was His plea,
When in the garden of Gethsemane He kneeled.
By His stripes are we healed.

How heavy was His cross
As He carried it up Calvary Hill.
Words can't express the pain and agony
Our precious Jesus did feel,
As He was nailed to the old rugged cross,
A man so kind and real.
At the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice,
As He hung upon the tree.
"My God, My God why hath thou forsaken me?"
How pitiful His voice must have rung

From Golgotha's hill that day.
Again He cried out loud and gave up the ghost
For His Father's way.
How great the humbleness our Savior did yield,
By His stripes are we healed.

How small my troubles do feel,
When I cast my eyes to Calvary's Hill
To view my Savior hanging on the tree,
And to see what all He has done for me.
Jesus, by your stripes are we healed in Thee.

Danna Robinette©
2004
E-mail