My rusting chains
    enslave me.

    i am beaten
    with the rigors
    of life.

    i am auctioned
    on the block.

    An ode to
    gold and silver
    is my dirge.

    No one pays
    the Price on
    my head.

    There is only
    one end-
    i am nothing
    to be used
    and tossed away.

    The Son offers his shoulder.

    i dig a
    tomb in my
    Hope’s dark fuse
    lies cold
    and buried.

    Why have i
    turned from Him?

    The Master is not my master-but he pays the Price!
    His heart is pierced because he knows my sin-
    He sealed my ransom with sanguine scarlet.

    My head tucks in Shoulder’s hollow, spent from my struggle.

    Jesus, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, my true Master,
    paid my ransom and more, royal blood for a peasant’s life.
    Pure love, a king’s life for my own!
    All my stripes worn by Him.

    All to Him I owe.

    This article was previously published at Medium on July 31, 2019.