There was no hint of beauty

in the crown of thorns He wore,

as His sacred head was bleeding

and the crowd cried out for more;

No loveliness in Jesus

as He hung on Calvary's tree,

but the cross He bore

and the thorns He wore

make Him beautiful to me.

When the thorns that I encounter

pierce my heart with grief and pain,

I will lift my heart to Jesus;

He'll renew my strength again.

As I lean upon my Jesus

He will make my trials grow dim;

and my heartfelt plea

and my bended knee

make me beautiful to Him.

~ Connie Faust ~

[ by: Connie Faust, Copyright © 2006 ( -- submitted by: Connie Faust ]


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