The Gift of the Cross

Kneeling, I reach out toward the cross,
touching it’s beauty, sensing the gift,
of freedom and eternity, You gave to me from it.

My shame and filth, was spit upon You.
I crowned You with thorns of disgrace,
and mocked Your name…

I taunted and kicked You,
whipped You with switches,
and beat You to Your knees.

I put You up on that cross,
a nail in each hand, and one in Your foot.
You shed Your blood, to make me clean.

You looked at Heaven, and the Father looked away,
my sin upon Your shoulders,
‘It is finished.’ You said, as You passed away.

Three days, later You rose,
You, my Jesus, conquered the grave,
so that someday, I can be saved.

Kneeling, I reach my hands up toward You,
praising You and thanking You, for every gift,
every gift, You have ever given me.