The Cross

Cursed is anyone that hangs upon a tree.
Yet those beams of blood stained wood
Are so very precious to me.
My Lord, My King, My Savior, Jesus Christ
Hung upon that tree many years ago
Before I was even a twinkle in my mother eye
For sins that I had not yet committed.
Still knowing that I would
He chose to take my place.
Ten thousand angels He could have called
They would have gladly saved Him.
But then He could not have saved me
So He held them back His love so great
That three small nails kept Him
On the tree that He created.
He wore upon His sacred head
The humiliation of my crown of thorns.
He took the taunts and mocking
That were mine to hear and bear.
My shame and disgrace His only clothing.
The tears He cried were for me.
My transgression and iniquities
He bore upon the stripes and bruises of His body
That had never before known sin, or ungodliness.
It was my pain, my sorrows that he endured.
And worse yet they cost him separation
From the presences of His father
Which He had never known before.
His blood was shed for my atonement.
My ugliness He took upon his shoulders
And open wide His arms and gave up His life for me.
The grave and Death in Hell would have been my fate.
But He did not stay upon that tree
He rose to give me hope, and life.
For He went down to Hell in my place
And won the glorious victory.
The cross that was meant as a curse and defeat
Is such a sweet, sweet blessing to me.
And I will ever hold dear to my heart
The one who died for me, while I was still lost.
Because of what He has done for me
I chose to lay down my life for Him.
And His cross I will gladly bear
Letting go of my fears and sins
And surrendering to His love and will.
For all eternity, I will shout His praise
And whisper wholeheartedly, “ I love You.”


Kathy Barnes
Copyright 5-27-09