Scar Stories

The scars I bear tell the story

Of what has wounded me.

Like the Savior bore His scars

When He hung upon the tree.

See here, His hands, His feet, His side

My scars are buried deep inside.

 

Can’t you see the way I am?

Is it so hard to understand?

Soul-scars, wounds that cut so deep

Rob me of my sleep-tight-sleep.

Jesus, my Savior, scarred for me

So that my scars could be set free.

 

Victorious, I, a Conqueror rise

With my Savior to the skies.

The scars that mar the soul remain

But Jesus took away the pain.

Healing hands by Him applied

The soul-balm, which for me, He died.

 

 

About Julia

Welcome! I'm so glad you stopped by. My name is Julia. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a teacher, and most recently, a writer. Above all, I am a daughter of the King. I am constantly amazed at God's goodness in my life; undeserved and unlimited. Come sit and visit awhile. The teapot's always on the stove.
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