The Foreboding Cross
It stands there
The symbol of Death
Foreboding, dark, garish and cold
It takes away my breath
Standing over me
In the darkness of the rain
Demanding an answer to its unspoken query
I stand mute warped in my pain
It speaks.. "He died here."
He who loved.. Who loved me
He who called me to life and peace
Who opened my heart that I might see
Cruel Cross you torment me now
My failure, my fear rise up in my heart
Bitter gall fills my insides.. I sob.. I cry..
My voice tears gloom's dark curtain apart
I denied him.. Not once.. Twice..
Three times.. A Galilean.. One of his? No!
You were with Jesus.. Not I.. Someone else
Then the mocking call.. The cock does crow
Oh Lord, Would that I had died..
Upon that cruel and ugly cross
Would that I hung there in stifling pain
Would that I.. Not Him.. Had suffered the loss
Then in the darkness I hear a voice
From the distance or deep inside of me..
His voice.. Soothing, drenched in peace
"In that moment.. I prayed for thee."
Ed Rutherford - Pastor of Orange Hills Assembly
