The Cross

A tree from Andrew’s garden was cut just yesterday
The trunk was stripped and cut in two and then was hauled away
Four soldiers claimed that mighty tree without a thought of cost
Who knew that Andrew’s garden would bear the Sacred Cross.

Flanked with bark and splinters and stubs of many branches
With sap that stuck and burned the flesh like a million tiny lances
Half was carried to the hill ready to be raised
The rest upon the shoulders of a man so many praised

The streets were mobbed and angry as He stumbled toward the hill
His back striped raw and flowed with blood, His Father’s loving will
The choice was His and His alone to die upon that tree
Atonement by His Father’s grace was the price to be

Upon the hill they bound the two sections of that tree
And nailed him both hands and feet, to die for you and me
And He looked up to the heavens as they raised Him to the sky
“Forgive them,” He had pleaded as tears fell from His eyes

Then darkness overcame the shadow of the cross
He breathed, “It is finished,” as payment for the cost
For the sins of the world, He carried to the grave
In love alone He suffered and by His love we’re saved

He rose again to conquer death in joyous victory
And the cross became the symbol of His sacrifice for me
And that tree had rot and fell away but its meaning never lost
I live my life in humble praise and thus embraced the cross.

A Christian poem by:  Bob Fegley