Man of Sorrows, who knew no sin;
Who would know pain and true agonies within;
Who would fight demons with Words of Truth,
And feel the oppression in old and youth.
Man of Sorrows who battled true temptation.
Praying for a bitter, horrid cup to pass.
Praying for a different way to redeem a nation.
Sweating blood and tears of dread.
Knowing true darkness in the days ahead,
As True Life would die for the living dead.
Oh, Man of Sorrows, whose precious,
cleansing Blood was shed;
As He bore to do God’s Will.
He took my sickness and my ill,
And gazed upon my wretched death.
Man of Sorrows who knew all my sorrows well;
Who knew truest me was in the deepest pits of hell.
I could not free myself.
The agony was real.
I cried to the high heavens with numbing pain to feel.
The shackles and chains that held me seemed
to be made of steel.
Heavy darkness surrounded.
Alone and forsaken,
Broken and shaken,
Evil and wickedness abounded.
I was a disgrace.
Even my very own seemed to slap me in my face,
as I lost my zeal.
Whoever thought a Saviour would come to meet me here,
With all my pain, agony, and rejection’s tear?
The battles consumed me.
I was sick of strife.
I wanted to trade it in for God’s True Life.
I just wasn’t good enough, as I twisted all my chains.
I tried to touch the rainbow and was caught in all the rains.
I wanted to live, to love, and give, and see a happy face.
Man of Sorrows, with no regard,
Who knew my life could be this hard.
Your Body mocked and marred.
Who would fight the battle of demonic wars,
And carry the rejection, humiliation, and
crucifixion scars,
To hold me in His Precious Arms.
Jesus, the Man of Sorrows, who knew such pain,
To make me grow in love again;
Who bore all my horrid sins,
To set me free indeed.

Ida Rosetta Raye Johnson



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