A poem on salvation. Of Ephraim
For the world
He was spat on
Beaten, yet He tottered on
Bruised, He still stumbled along
Whipped in your place, He trotted along.
For doubters and naysayers,
For sinners and the worst of sinners,
In all our place
His death was our death
And our death was His
And His resurrection yours.;
Are alive and living in my blood.
Everything of mine is His
And everything of His
I John 2:2
And He Himself is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the whole world.”
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