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The beauty of that empty cross,
That stood on Calvary's Hill Reminds me of My Saviour's love, Who bore my pain until, His forhead bore the mark of thorns, God's only Son_ hung there, And in His hands, those nails dug deep, Yet no-one seemed to care. His side was pierced, and stripes He bore, From beatings long and hard, Then Jesus died as He hung there, My precious loving Lord. They buried Him within a tomb, Then rolled a big stone there, And that ole cross, made just for Him, Stood empty, and so bare. |
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God's Holy Word reveals to me,
That was His wonderous plan, To let Him hang upon that cross, To die _for sins of man, God could not look upon His pain, He turned and looked away, But did not leave Him in that grave, He rose on that third day, The beauty of that empty cross, Makes chills run down my spine, I know He hung there, just for me, And one day, "Heaven's mine", There was no other way for me, To ever see God's Face, If Jesus had not bore that cross, And died, to take my place! ++++++++++++++++++++++++ |
Pg. by Joni Kassel_copyright |
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