The First Blood

He was in agony
In the garden of Gethsemane
Bowing His head, down on His knees
The first blood He shed was in prayer

The perfect sacrifice
Not a blemish or a scar
Ready to pay the ultimate price
The first blood He shed was in prayer

They beat Him and mocked Him
Spit in His face
In a trial that broke all their laws
They whipped Him and scourged Him
And crowned Him with thorns
Blood unceasingly dripped to the ground

The made Him carry His cross up a hill
Where beggars and thieves came to die
The drove nails
Through His hands and feet
As they hung Him on that cross

The agony there was when sin entered in
The Father had left Him alone
He never had felt the pain of sin
As His blood quickly seeped in the ground

He had never hurt anyone, never said wrong
Yet He died the most ungodly way
Yet with all of the blond that he shed that day
The first blood He shed was in prayer

Let us never forget the price that He paid
And the blood that was shed that day
But ponder on the significance
That the first blood he shed was in prayer

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