Red beats the sky
As the blood runs down;
Scarred by the thorns
That serve as a crown.
Blood-stained soil
At the foot of the wood;
His back torn open,
Though He’s done only good.
A criminal’s execution,
A spectacle of shame;
A choice by the One
Who takes on our blame.
Love is the reason;
We cannot understand;
He died in our place,
For creations of His hand.
A hero that was greater,
There has never been;
And no other death
Could atone for our sin.
Creator became the created;
The lowest humility;
An incomprehensible plan;
All this for you and me.
How much does He love you?
How much does He care?
Does He really think you’re worth it?
Does He really know you’re there?
Look at those spikes
Driven all the way through,
Pinning Him up there,
God become a Jew.
A carpenter nailed to wood;
Holy God and yet man;
The Sinless punished for sin;
The Undying dying in this plan.
How much does He love you?
The nails, they will tell;
The cross, the whip, the blood,
All to save you from Hell.
Spit upon, mocked,
Now convulsing in pain;
All this He does
Only for our gain.
All this He’s done
For you and for me;
How much does He love you?
Look at the cross and see.
by Jeff Jenkins
(created 12/6/98)
Jeff Jenkins
kingzmessenger@embarqmail.com
