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January / February 2004

January / February 2004

Hast thou no scars?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land,
I hear them hail thy bright ascendant star:
Hast thou no scar?

Hast thou no wound?
Yes, I was wounded by the archers, spent.
Leaned me against the tree to die, and rent
By ravening beast that compassed me, I swooned:
Hast thou no wound?

No wound? No scar?
Yes, as the master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet the follow Me:
But thine are whole. Can he have followed far
Who has no wound? No scar?

Amy Carmichael

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