Meditation on the Cross

Stretched, contorted, distorted,
The Godhead upon the Cross,
With bloody brambles crowned,
Mourning for souls lost.

No nails could ever hold,
Christ on the Cross above,
Naked broken shivering cold,
Alone in holding was His Love.

Six words in torment spoken,
Pleading for others ne’er himself,
Desperate to heal the broken,
Never thing of Self.

Darkness veiled the skies,
O’er the dreadful sacrfice,
As His death for us pleading cries,
And for the deadly debt did suffice.

Led silent to the slaughter,
Ne’er straying from His course,
That we may be called son or daughter,
And find life in our remorse.

Let us never forget this dreadful day,
Whose death won o’er sins strife,
Holds satan’s power at bay,
And leads us from death to life.