Poetry

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His cross was planted on the brow of a hill
In the glare of the midday scorching sun,
Crucified between two robbers
Mocked by the Jews, he hanged there on it.

Pouring every drop of blood
He proved his love for every one.
“I give my life for others to live,”
He said and fulfilled all his words.

Arms outstretched to embrace the world
Every human of all the times,
All were covered in his love without fail
Forgiveness was his lesson from the cross.

He delivered his last seven messages
All reflecting his three years’ work,
He fulfilled his Father’s plan and Will
And into His hands he breathed his last.

The sun closed his eyes and the earth fell dark,
All nature trembled in a fear of loss!
Thunder struck and opened cemeteries,
Everything staged the climax of the Cross.

Was it for me he died on the cross?
Is it true that he loves me still?
My sins are great but his love is greater,
Still He is waiting, my prodigal Father!

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