When You were just a little boy and saving scraps of wood
To make a slingshot, toy or boat like Joseph said You could,
Were You aware of what a role that wood was bound to play
In bringing to fruition all God's plans for You some day?
Your father, as a carpenter, taught You to love the look
Of wood’s polished patina and the shape each project took.
As You grew into manhood, all the furniture You made
Earned you the reputation of a man skilled in His trade.
I wonder, Lord, what thoughts You had when You were first abused
And Your disciples stood there, weak and hopelessly confused.
The Romans made You carry that cruel cross of jagged wood;
The wood they used for evil that they could have used for good.
While hanging on that rugged cross, blood pouring from your face,
Your body overwhelmed with ignominy and disgrace ,
While evil men hastened Your death, mocked You while having fun,
You felt that even God had turned His back on His dear Son.
And when You finally bowed Your head, exhaled Your final breath,
The world stood trembling in remorse for they had caused Your death.
The chasm was so wide and deep ‘tween God and sinful men,
There seemed no way on earth to ever bridge that gap again.
But You, when risen from the dead, approached Your Father’s throne.
“I gave my life for all the sins mankind has ever known.
I’d like to take that wooden cross that stood on Calvary
And place it as a bridge between all sinful men and Thee.”
Your Father smiled at You, His son, and tenderly He said,
“The sacrifice You made for men when they pronounced You dead
Has satisfied the need for justice and this bridge of wood
Will serve as a reminder that You gave all that You could.”
The wooden cross to which was nailed the Son of God and man
Symbolically became a bridge; ‘twas part of God’s great plan.
And all who seek forgiveness and who want to be set free
Must walk across that timeless bridge, the cross of Calvary.
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