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The Cross by Gertrude Jefferies In the dark of my room, I see a glow, A luminous cross lights my wall. And I recall the "Old Rugged Cross" On which Jesus died for all. A cross of pain, a cross of shame, Carried for us to view. And his only crime, for which he died, Was loving me and you. His hands and feet were pierced with nails, His back was ripped to shreds. And blood flowed down in his ears and his eyes, From a thorny crown crushed on his head. Why did he die, why did he let men nail him to a cross? The answer echoes back from Golgotha's hill, It's the price your redemption cost! |
This poem may be use within Christian ministries for any non-profit purpose without requesting permission.