JESUS OF THE SCARS

A poem by Edward Shillito (1872-1948) 

JESUS OF THE SCARS

If we have never sought, 
we seek Thee now;

Thine eyes burn through the dark, 
our only stars;

We must have sight of thorn-pricks 
on Thy brow,

We must have Thee, 
O Jesus of the Scars.

The heavens frighten us; 
they are too calm;

In all the universe 
we have no place.

Our wounds are hurting us; 
where is the balm?

Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, 
we claim Thy grace.

If, when the doors are shut, 
Thou drawest near,

Only reveal those hands,
that side of Thine;

We know to-day what wounds are, 
have no fear,

Show us Thy Scars, 
we know the countersign.

The other gods were strong; 
but Thou wast weak;

They rode, 
but Thou didst stumble to a throne;

But to our wounds 
only God’s wounds can speak,

And not a god has wounds, 
but Thou alone.

H A P P Y   E A S T E R!!!!!