Poetry

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THE ULTIMATE GIFT

He gave his all for you and me
upon the cross that day
as darkness swept across the sky
and children ceased their play.

He hung alone, without a friend
to satisfy his need.
He took our sins upon himself
as he began to bleed.

Some walked away, some stood and stared
while blood ran down his side
and as the Father turned his head
our Lord was crucified.

What have we done to merit grace
bestowed on us that day
when Christ, himself, became a curse
to bring a better way.

Though we should live a thousand years
devoted to his plan,
we could not meet the price he payed
when he gave his all for man.

Barbara Thompson Young

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