A poem I wrote after reflecting on Isaiah 53:3. I am still experimenting with forms, meters, rhythm, and poetic license. If you have any poetry experience, some feedback would be great.


The Loveliness of Christ

Lacking form of fleeting charm,
His face unpleasant nor cheeks too warm,
Yet in his presence glows magisterial light,
Behold the loveliness of Christ.

Beaten, bruised, well-torn
My sin adorned on him with thorns;
Nothing so bloody compares in beauty,
Behold the sacrifice of Christ.

Alive with form of Mary’s womb,
Yet, brighter, fuller, from the tomb,
Arose my Lord who slayed the night,
Behold the victory of Christ.
Now his role is sending one,
He bids us see the nations won,
Tell them when they ask, why him?
“My Jesus! Lovely, bloody, king is he.”


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