The Saint

The tears I wept,
salt streaked my face. So dark a pit,
deep in the bowel of sorrow lies.
Suppose I falter and resign any faith?
Am I a wretch to sit before men's eyes?
With open arms and loving grace, He
welcomes sinners, poor. enslaved,
forced to fight and spew the blood of
Satan's war. My Christ became the Saint,
who set the captives free. He healed
a festered, wounded world on the cross at Calvary.

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