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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