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God handed me to the unjust,
And throwing me into their hands;
The wicked with such evil lust,
Having such immoral demands.
I was at ease but was shattered,
When grabbed by the back of the neck;
Being beaten and so battered,
When I was thrown down on the deck.
I was set up as a target,
As the impact had smashed my skull;
But I cannot ever forfeit,
My love for God not to annul.
The soldiers had me surrounded,
As the commander slashed my skin;
My blood gushed out so abounded,
Cutting up my organs within.
He inflicted wound after wound,
Lunging at me warrior like;
Throwing insults as he lampooned,
More blood pouring with each strike.
Sackcloth was sewn over my skin,
As I threw my strength in the dust;
Pleading that healing would begin,
For in the Lord I kept my trust.
My face was red from my weeping,
Dark shadows encircle my eyes;
Because I had not been sleeping,
Seeing the demons in disguise.
For my hands have done nothing wrong,
As my praying as been sincere;
Since the agony does prolong,
I just want my Lord to appear.
Allow not my cry for justice,
An advocate to testify;
May Heaven to be my witness,
That my Lord would ever deny.
I need a spokesman for my thought,
The Son of man as my neighbor;
For the few years that I have sought,
That I have asked of my Savior.
Copyright © 2016 Richard Newton Sherrer
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