My heart lies wounded, ever broken, wanting to be free
Yet not greatly, do I seek it, trying fearfully
Not so! Cried He, with fervor strong, to you soundness of mind
Tis yours to claim, beloved child, adopted son of mine.
He came to earth, to live and die, and hang upon a tree
And no sweeter thought had He, than His love for thee
So do you think, that He would have, you wounded and not free
When faithful and just, to forgive is He, a child such as thee
Someday this Earth will hold no more, my feet upon this ground
For judgment day, will come with shout, to us a golden crown
A trumpet sound, the saints of God, will meet Him in the air
Eternal life, wounded no more, no pain, no strife, no care
This is perhaps my best poem…
Yeah, he is the definitively the most artistic one of the three.
Even so come, LORD Jesus!