Here at Golgotha's crest I stand,
Here where my Lord was slain.
Here where the father gave the lamb
Of Heaven for my stains!
Shoulders that bore the wrath of man
Bore so much more for me.
Arms that supported heaven’s span,
Stretched out upon a tree.
He who once wore all heaven’s veil,
Now drap’d in pain and scars—
Who gave his hands to iron nails,
That once hung up the stars.
His hands my heart have taught to stand,
This perfect God and Man—
Because He’s died I shall not, and
Because he lives I can.
This cross my anchor, where I’m caught,
Where once my Lord was dead—
This sword of heaven’s mercy wrought,
This stake pound through death’s head.
My Jordan, to cure my disease,
When thrust beneath His course!
His love’s a river, to this sea,
Golgotha’s hill the source.
Here in the shadow of my King,
I’ll be content to live.
To thee who gave me life, I bring,
My life, and all, I give.
So give me strength to live for you,
A life, and live it well.
And let me ne’er o’erlook the truth
That snatched my soul from hell.
(Click for last year's Easter post, The Harvester)