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!