There stood a perfect man,
the most beautiful, and only perfect man,
to ever have lived.
He came out of mercy,
teaching love and forgiveness,
setting the ultimate example.

There stood a mighty tree,
growing for a special purpose.
One day soon it would be cut down.

There stood the perfect man,
beaten and bruised,
mocked by the crowd.
Blood streaming down his face,
a crown of thorns on his brow.

There stood a cross,
carved from that mighty tree.
Upon it they hung Jesus Christ,
nails through his hands and feet.
A sword piercing in his side,
crucified for our sin.

There stood a guard,
watching over the grave.
A sealed stone to keep people out,
but mainly to keep Jesus in.

Then, there stood an empty tomb.
Death had been defeated,
our Lord and Saviour has risen.


Once there stood a cross,
a cross with all our names.
And Jesus took our place upon it.

04/16/2003

Posted on 04/17/2003
Copyright © 2024 Adrian Calhoun