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He grew up like a young tree,
Like a root out of the ground;
Had no form or majesty,
Speaking no disturbing sound.
He looked like a normal guy,
Nothing that lights a fire;
But honest and would not lie,
No girl seemed to desire.
But He was despised by they,
And was rejected by others;
Not be trusted in that day,
Nor was looked at as brothers.
He was a man of sorrows,
Familiar with suffering;
But with vision of morrows,
And would be considered King.
He was despised faces turned,
Not considered to be worth;
Many of them never learned.
His true purpose here on earth.
He surely took on His own,
The suffering and sorrows;
But thought that God did condone,
The events that next follows.
He was wounded for the acts,
Committed for our sins;
But the outcome that impacts,
Causing to turn into wins.
He was punished to make peace,
And wounds would finally heal;
So that the ill will would cease,
With His mercy we could feel.
Just like sheep we have all strayed,
Each of us has turned away;
Now with confession when prayed,
He forgives if we obey.
Copyright © 2014 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Growing Up
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