Max M. Johnson

From the dry ground of Earth, in man’s darkest hour,

A root produced fruit — a rare, tender flower
A 2003 Rendition

From the dry ground of Earth, in man’s darkest hour,

A root produced fruit — a rare, tender flower

Growing up before God — a beautiful Bloom;

But in man’s wicked heart, He was given no room.

“He is ugly!” they cried, “no beauty is there;

For His Person or presence we just do not care.”

And in His rejection He hid not His grief —

In sorrow on sorrow He found no relief.

We said He was stricken and smitten of God.

But wait! ‘Twas for OUR sins HE suffered the rod.

For OUR many transgressions — those wounds that HE bore —

OUR iniquities gave Him the bruises so sore.

And He, for our peace, under chastisement reeled;

With those stripes that He bore, we all can be healed.

We, in our folly, have all gone astray,

And have turned, every one, to his own wicked way.

But God in His mercy, on Him caused to fall

The iniquity, sins and transgressions of all.

And in His affliction, He silent remained —

As a sheep before shearers His voice He restrained.

Yes, He was stricken; and now we see why —

“For the transgression of My people was He made to die.”

It did please the Lord to put Him to grief

That we from our judgment might find sweet relief.

HE suffered and bled, my sins to atone,

For that Sweet Rose of Sharon had none of His own.

And one day in Glory, His bride by His side,

He’ll recall His travail, and be satisfied.

And the fruit of that Plant that was crushed for our sake?

Our praise and our worship forever He’ll take.

 

 

 

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