Was it just the roman soldiers
Or the crowd that gathered round,
That drove the nails into my Lord,
He was crucified but kept no record.

Oh the hate among the throng standing by
For He could have called His angels,
Instead He stayed on the cross that day,
His poor bleeding body was on display.

It was for me, my guilt and shame
Why He died upon the cruel tree,
His love was shown to everyone,
God's dear son, He died alone.

Each time, I disobey my Lord
I know I hurt Him more sadly,
He always wraps me in His care,
And tells me, Child, do not fear.

Oh, precious Jesus please forgive me
For all the times I let you down,
I should have hung on the cross in disgrace,
Through His great love, He took my place.

©Bernice Ward
April 2006
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