The scars on feet and hand,
Visible across the land.
Did people notice scars on His feet,
As He walked on the cold stone street?
As He raised His hands high
Did scars find one's searching eye?
Did His brow show signs of thorn,
A cruel crown this King had borne?
For now, He is cloaked in Light,
He did cry, It is over, I've won the fight.
Transformed from signs of hate,
Scars will embrace as we pass His gate.
The hatred of men, shown one day,
In His kingdom banished, forever away.
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