Little child, little lamb,

Sweet, innocent lamb

Crouched in pain,

Silent, inner pain.

Violated, cruelly ripped apart,

Bleeding to death

Inside, deep, deep inside.


Sunny childhood sweetness

Bitterly clutched and pawed away

By deathly touches, smooth embraces

That leave ripped-open wounds

Of inner turmoil.


Horror, helplessness, terror.

The Bogey Man is real.

When will the pain go away?

When will the torture end?


Wounded child,

Curled up in a tight ball

Of filth and guilt.

Stripped of innocence.

Alone, desperately alone.

Crying tears of bitter pain

From a dark well that is continually

Refilled with newer, viler pain.

Abandoned to suffer in silence.

No one truly cares for the

Wounded lamb,

Suffering a slow death

In darkness, grief, inner turmoil.



Oh Lamb of God!

Bruised, tortured, rejected, misused,

Assaulted by sinful men,

Come!  Come heal your lambs!

Heal their hearts, bind their wounds,

Speak comfort, hope, joy, victory.

Hold them close to your wounded heart,

That by your stripes

They may be healed.

Wash them whiter than snow.

Adorn them with beauty and honor.

Bring them wholeness, complete healing.

Love them deeply, securely.

Embrace them with purity.

Restore to them their innocence.

Turn their darkness to sunshine,

Their despair to bright hope,

Their bitter loneliness to the fullness

Of your complete acceptance

And love.


Heal your lambs, oh Lamb of God!

Heal your lambs!

©2014 Thrive