Here at
Golgotha's crest I stand,
Here
where my Lord was slain.
Here
where the father gave the lamb
Of
Heaven for my stains!
Shoulders
that bore the wrath of man
Bore so
much more for me.
Arms
that supported heaven’s span,
Stretched
out upon a tree.
He who
once wore all heaven’s veil,
Now
drap’d in pain and scars—
Who gave
his hands to iron nails,
That
once hung up the stars.
His
hands my heart have taught to stand,
This
perfect God and Man—
Because
He’s died I shall not, and
Because
he lives I can.
This cross
my anchor, where I’m caught,
Where
once my Lord was dead—
This
sword of heaven’s mercy wrought,
This
stake pound through death’s head.
My
Jordan, to cure my disease,
When
thrust beneath His course!
His
love’s a river, to this sea,
Golgotha’s
hill the source.
Here in
the shadow of my King,
I’ll be
content to live.
To thee
who gave me life, I bring,
My life,
and all, I give.
So give
me strength to live for you,
A life,
and live it well.
And let
me ne’er o’erlook the truth
That snatched
my soul from hell.
(Click for last year's Easter post, The Harvester)
