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 This Crown Of Thorns
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Weaved by hand this crown of thorns
Was made for you in manger born
To wear and dignify you son
A King unlike just anyone

It's piercing thorns would ravage skin
As soldiers watched what would begin
Your walk to death, more like a crawl
With cross burdened you tripped, would fall

This crown would press much harder still
Your face rained blood and fathers will
Eyes once soft would bare the scars
Of pain dispensed raising the bar

This crown would shift and turn the tide
As many hid and left your side
Disciples once they too would run
Before your eyes and day was done

This crown of thorns once brown now red
Would cut and sow upon your head
The sins of all who gave away
The son of GOD until this day

No one back then and still today
Will know anguish suffered that payed
With crown of thorns upon your head
Worn by my King, alive not dead

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