The CROSS
Slewed he was, upon it.
Silently led like a lamb,
Straight to the slaughter,
Smitten, stricken man of sorrows.
Died, he did upon it.
Up to date with anguish,
A suffering servant socially reviled,
Unloved, man of many sorrows.
Nailed he was, upon it.
Through the palms, nails,
Hammered through,
True, a suffering man of sorrows.
For my sake, he was upon it.
Took my transgression,
My retribution, my castigation,
Truly, suffered he did, for my salvation.
For my sake, he was put on it,
Yet he rose, for a cause,
Never did he pause,
To contemplate if I deserve the prize.
Salvation came because of love.
Love from above through the cross,
I suppose none can oppose,
Because to resist is disbelief which is a loss.
by Tawanda J Mutsena
