BEYOND THE CROSS

The cross was just a simple cross,
It held no claim to fame,
It stood outside the City gates,
That instrument of shame.

It was not the first to hold a man,
Nor would it be the last,
But none held such a special place,
In the future or the past.

Two other crosses stood that day,
One on either side,
But it was on the middle one,
That my Savior, bled and died.

They put a sign above His head,
That named Him King of Jews,
But He is King of Kings and men,
If He's the one they choose.

They put the whip upon His back,
And thorns upon His head,
The One that should have been adored,
Was ridiculed instead.

The nails were driven through His hands,
And far into the wood,
And soon the cross was crimson red,
With Jesus' Precious blood.

There was a crowd beneath that cross,
Some cursed, some laughed with glee,
But those that knew and loved Him,
Wept in silent sympathy.

God turned His face away that day,
The sun refused to shine,
When Jesus took upon Himself,
The sins of all mankind.

The very earth shook beneath that cross,
Where God's own Son had died,
But Prophesy was not complete,
Till the spear went in His side.

The symbol that once stood for shame,
To us, a sign of love,
will forever be remembered,
Since it came from Heaven above.

God's greatest gift hung on that cross,
The gift of love and grace,
To-day that love is just as real,
To all that seek His face.

The world sees Jesus from afar,
Their eyes are dimmed by sin,
They need the message of His Word,
To know of peace within.

We lay our gifts at Jesus' feet,
Our talents and our time,
We spread the message by His Word,
To a sin engulfed mankind.

We need to tell a dying world,
Of a Savior from above,
And the cross to-day reminds us,
That He gave His life for love.

AUTHOR: Margaret Shankland