He was wounded for my transgressions.
For my sin He was beaten and scourged.
His pure blood it did flow
For my lost, helpless soul
Until all of my sin it had purged.
IT IS FINISHED
He was wounded for my transgressions.
For my sin He was beaten and scourged.
His pure blood it did flow
For my lost, helpless soul
Until all of my sin it had purged.
The Happy Wordcrafter 
This poetry and art your original? Liked it. Concise.
The poem is mine. The artwork is not mine. I wish it were.