The body of God, hung on a cross
Nail pierced arms, blood stained feet
It’s a terrible and beautiful suffering
Redeeming forever the souls of men
Through this bloodstained pane of suffering
We see the glory of God in love
The author of all that is, Himself
Who came to die, to reconcile
He could not let his image fall
Down an endless spiral of sin and death
So down to flesh he came to die
To suffer the punishment we should take
He conquered death and returned to the father
But his body remains on earth to live
Breathed to life by his very own spirit
His hands now reach, his arms extend
To reach a world that hates his name
A world of brokenness sin and pain
Should we be surprised when the hand is pierced?
Or recoil from pain at the sight of the spear?
Or invite a view of God on a cross
Through a broken pane of suffering?
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