The Cross
To some it’s just a slab of old wood planted in the ground,
But therein lies my hope and joy of my life.
For on that cross my savior bled and died,
So that I, the lowest of lows, could have help in all my strife.
They smashed a crown of thorns upon my savior’s head,
And out flowed blood as bright as the morning sun.
And that blood from his head, hands, and side,
Was more than enough to save a sinner like me.
“For by his stripes we are healed” is what the Bible says,
The stripes that I, a sinner, should be made to bear.
For I once was lost in sin, but praise God HE took me in,
And said to me all my burdens HE would gladly share.
The cross, you see, is more than just a symbol to me,
For out of that cross the blood and living water still flows.
The love of God is enough to cover a multitude of sins,
And make the blackest of hearts to be as the purest snow.
Not for good that I have done did he hang on the old forsaken tree,
But as a lamb to the slaughter he went, for you and for me.
To some it’s just a slab of old wood planted in the ground,
But therein lies my hope and joy of my life.
Matt Wright
