Nails through his hands,
Spear through his side.
Down his dirt-layered face,
the glistening tears do glide.
His body battered and beaten,
his heart feeling empty and alone.
He could have stopped it all
and been right back on the throne.
He endured such agony and pain,
For a world that would turn their backs,
this Son of God that died for us,
as it says in the book of Acts.
Because of a wooden dogwood cross
we now have an abundance of grace.
He bled for our sins and transgressions
and washed our slates as white as lace.
Spear through his side.
Down his dirt-layered face,
the glistening tears do glide.
His body battered and beaten,
his heart feeling empty and alone.
He could have stopped it all
and been right back on the throne.
He endured such agony and pain,
For a world that would turn their backs,
this Son of God that died for us,
as it says in the book of Acts.
Because of a wooden dogwood cross
we now have an abundance of grace.
He bled for our sins and transgressions
and washed our slates as white as lace.