Christ or a Cross?
Looking back I see the cross, covered
by religious dross.
Iconoclast I may well be, it was the
Christ who set me free.
Not the wood nor rusty nails, nor the
spear that swift impales,
the Lord in death upon that cross, buried
by religious dross.
Long live the resurrected King, the One
of whom the angels sing.
Ten thousand voices laud his name, and
in my heart I do the same.
Glory now and ever be, to the Christ
who set me free.
Revere the Christ not wooden cross, still
hidden by religious dross.
Through love the sacrifice was made, by
Christ the ransom price was paid.
God wept to see his Son in pain, as Christ
by human hands was slain.
In anguish Christ was offered gall, but
to the minds of some recall,
an ancient wooden Roman cross, with
all its crass religious dross.
What was the purpose of that cross,
obscured by much religious dross?
A sacrificial perfect Lamb, as
promised by the great “I Am”.
Why was it needed, and what was it
for, why did they kill the Christ I adore?
Christ had to die upon the cross, that
we avoid eternal loss.
No comments:
Post a Comment