The Glory of the Cross
I asked the Lord who made the world
To show me the greatest glory He could afford
The voice that spoke the mountains be
And hurled the galaxies within the cosmos sea
At His whisper the dawn flames high
And tears the darkness from the sky
The oceans boil at His command
When they rage, who can stand?
What is thy wonder? The climax of His story
The author of all things- what is His glory?
Would it be the power of a storm?
The galaxies? their freedom; their form?
Would it be a mighty burst of light
That makes the dawn feel like the night?
“Show me your glory” this my plea
so He lead me to that place to see
The crown of power and place of might
His Spirit whispered “I grant thee sight'
There I stood, my mind at total loss
For fashioned there naught but a cross
How can this be? This thing of death
The shock –the stun – I lost my breath
For dark and brown upon the wood
The ink of pain, the bloodstains stood
And there upon the tree's hewn hide
Holes where the nails had held their prize
A Roman cross the truth did yield
The splintered face; a battlefield
An eternal force, with sovereign might
Fought with love – man's sin despite
Myriads of flaming swords with ease
The power of nature, storms and seas
At His command to the end the pain
And, over scoffers, soldiers, mockers rain
Judgment- perfect torture they'd taste
What are these words? Can this be true?
“Forgive them, for they know not what they do”
The lion held his roar and was a lamb to slaughter
The ink of blood upon that cross did author
the death of death and the Word of life
As I stood, stunned, unmoving at this story
The very nature of God I saw; I saw His glory
From men who by their awful sins had died
He chose to purchase for Himself a Bride
And so he washed the whoring souls
By His blood His Bride made whole
By Her delight in His eternal love
The ravishing joy with Him above
All pleasure of God without a loss
Oh the glory of the cross!