Sweet Pain of Sacrifice

Thine own hands, worn from years working with them and wood

Carried the cross that thou wouldst die upon, in a manner in which no one should

I saw mine self stand among the crowd, watching as thou didst stumble by

Heard mine shouts among theirs, saying “Crucify, crucify”

But thy gentle and quiet self, they led thee on to be slain

Thy sacrifice near o’erlooked, though all was for the sinner’s gain

A breathless silence rippled o’er the crowd, as thine very own breath ceased

Would that I could take it back, and find another way to be appeased

Bloodlust for death of self and Savior, first I was satiated then appalled

Why didst thou take mine stripes as thine own, when I alone deserved to fall?

I killed my Lamb, slaughtered my Savior by mine own filthy hands

The perfect sacrifice still, fully God yet Son of Man

Thou ripped my old self from me as thine own flesh was stripped, and the blood flowed

Yet ‘twas not all mine but thine, as life in death thy love showed

Our blood mingled and flooded my black soul, leaving paths of white in its wake

Like a lily blooms, a pure flag of surrender didst my spirit take

As my tremb’ling reach met thy wounds, I could not see

Mine doubt I worked through, but the guilt obscured mine eyes from thee

Thine own pain was meant for me, but thou didst take it to cure mine strife

Though I did not ask, one sweet act of love and death saved my life

Thou didst raise mine face to peer into mine eyes, and thy smile sweet

Thou kept drying mine tears, til thine eyes could I meet

For only with thee could e’er such things take place, by thy light

Thy healing power, thy crimson pulse didst turn my black soul to white