A gaze at the cross
Written by Jim Rhyno
I gaze at the rough wooden cross,
A symbol of great suffering past.
The weathered old timbers stand fast
And speak of a life filled with loss.
The timbers are blood soaked and dark.
I hear the cry of my brother
The weeping form of His mother.
A scene that is hopeless and stark.
I gaze at the rough wooden place
Of my heart so weary and worn.
I recall that the curtain was torn
So I could experience God’s grace.
The strength of His love firmly holds me.
All my wounds to Him I have given.
All my sins, I know, He’s forgiven
In His arms He tenderly folds me.
I gaze on the beauty of the cross,
Even more so the one who hung there.
My sorrows He was willing to bear
With no thought for His personal loss.
The timbers are rugged and old
But His love remains always the same.
In my mind hear Him calling my name
And the sound is more precious than gold.