THE POUNDING OF THE NAILS
Sunday morning rolled around,
And I was half asleep,
Unconcerned what day it was,
‘Til something made me weep.
The crucifixion story,
Came to life that day;
I witnessed in my mind’s eye,
The price Christ had to pay.
They laid Him down upon a cross,
His clothes already stripped,
A crown of thorns upon His head,
And stripes where He was whipped.
Then I heard an awful sound,
Along with Mary’s wails;
The sound that changed my life,
Was the pounding of the nails.
Church means so much more to me,
For when I miss I find,
The pounding of the nails,
Echoes through my mind.
Becky Wall
