It was a long weary road that my Savior walked,
When He carried that cross for me.
It was a painful crown that He wore on his head
When He climbed that hill called Calvary.
They nailed Him to that cross He bore
For all of my faults and my sins.
They beat Him and scorned Him and spat on His face,
As the crowd cried "Crucify Him!"
The agony He must have felt inside,
Still He thought of me so lost.
Oh, the pain and the shame He felt on that day,
When it should have been me on that cross.
The clouds turned black and it started to rain
As His blood came streaming down.
That very same blood that covers my stains,
Grew but stronger as it fell to the ground.
As His precious Spirit started to leave,
His body so bruised and so broken.
He lifted His head, and I can hear Him cry
"My child you are...Forgiven!"
I know that I can never repay
The debt of love that I owe,
To my precious Savior who suffered my cross
Such a long, long time ago.
Often I ask Him how I can repay Him
For answering this lost sinners plea.
And then I hear Him sweetly say,
"Just pick up your cross, and follow me."
I know I will fail Him and sometime fall,
It's then I will feel His sweet touch.
He'll help me back up and on I will go
Because I love Him so much.
To the world the cross that my Jesus bore
May seem homely and plain to see.
But to me it is glorious and a beautiful thing
That is perfectly fit for a King.
by Rachael Lunsford (Watkins)
© Copyright 2000 Poem used with permission
Note: RACHAEL IS MY NEICE AND SHE WAS 16
YEARS OLD WHEN SHE WROTE THIS POEM...WANDA
