The Cross
(c) 1999 Holly L. Schmidtbleicher

Called "the place of the skull"
where criminals were killed,

An impossible debt was paid in full,
as innocent blood was spilled.

Up from that hill of death arose
a rugged wooden frame,

Upon which our loving Savior chose
to hang and die in shame.

The blood that bathed its splintered beams
willingly He bled;

We could be reconciled by no other means
but the blood of Christ be shed.

He hung with stakes driven through His flesh,
suspended there to die.

He suffered this tormenting death
in place of you and I.

They mocked Him with the crown of thorns
they forced upon His head.

In quiet sorrow He bore all their scorns,
for not a word He said.

They jeered at Him saying, "If you're God,
save yourself; come down."

Ten thousand angels He could've called
but His life chose to lay down.

For even in their sin He loved them;
He was dying for them too.

He prayed, "Father, forgive them
for they know not what they do."

Darkness fell; the earth shook
the Father turned His face.

For upon sin He could not look
and sin, on His Son was placed.

"My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
He cried out in despair;

Though nails pierced His hands and feet
it was love that held Him there.

Jesus Christ, who knew no sin
for us was made to be.

The sins of all poured out on Him
He bore our pain and agony.

Then at His words, "It is finished!"
the temple veil was torn

Sin's separating grip relinquished
we now come before His throne.

Sin and death conquered; salvation won.
God's promise He fulfilled

When in that moment His work was done
He, to God, His spirit willed.

His side they pierced and death assured
for blood and water flowed

By His punishment our peace procured
and in righteousness we're clothed.

Greater love hath no other
than He had for sinners lost

To give His life our sins to cover
on that tree we call The Cross.