Song for a Sacrifice
Who is this man, staggering through the crowd,
With a look in his eyes of such anguish and pain,
As if the cross on his back was the weight of the world,
As if shame's mark burned deeper than blood's dark stain?
Was once this man my teacher?
Could he be my Lord and King?
They've pierced his hands and feet with nails,
Still, cries of "Crucify Him" ring.
Oh, what's this my Lord, my Glorious?
What's this upon thy head?
A crown of thorns for the greatest king,
Hanging, broken, beaten, dead?
Is it for my iniquities he suffers?
Are there any righteous now?
Are these my sins upon his shoulders?
Is that my guilt upon his brow?
But why? I deserve it not my King,
Oh Lord, my sin is far too great,
Sacrifice not thy holiness,
For my unforgiveness, pride, and hate.
"My God, why have you forsaken me?"
He shouts before he breathes his final breath,
Then he cries out, "It is finished",
And gives his spirit up to death.
All truth, all justice has turned to dust,
My faith, my hope, my love is shattered,
All that I had put my trust in,
Nailed to a cross, now torn and tattered.
Where is the man whom I have followed?
Where is my King? Where is my Lord?
Has he delivered me from my sin?
Has he saved me from death's fiery sword?
What kind of amazing love could this be,
That an innocent man would pay such a price,
And not for himself, but for a world of sin,
To redeem the world, he was sacrificed.
Behold this world he gave his life to save,
A world of selfishness, lust, and greed,
A world where truth is disguised or forgotten,
That by his death, through our faith, we are freed.
And surely this was the Son of God,
For none but our King could show such a love,
Sent not to condemn, but to pay the price;
Compassion and mercy from heaven above.
A song, a song for a sacrifice,
A poem of thanks to my Glorious,
An ode, an ode to the arisen Son,
Of the God who reigns victorious.
Who is this man, staggering through the crowd,
With a look in his eyes of such anguish and pain,
As if the cross on his back was the weight of the world,
As if shame's mark burned deeper than blood's dark stain?
Was once this man my teacher?
Could he be my Lord and King?
They've pierced his hands and feet with nails,
Still, cries of "Crucify Him" ring.
Oh, what's this my Lord, my Glorious?
What's this upon thy head?
A crown of thorns for the greatest king,
Hanging, broken, beaten, dead?
Is it for my iniquities he suffers?
Are there any righteous now?
Are these my sins upon his shoulders?
Is that my guilt upon his brow?
But why? I deserve it not my King,
Oh Lord, my sin is far too great,
Sacrifice not thy holiness,
For my unforgiveness, pride, and hate.
"My God, why have you forsaken me?"
He shouts before he breathes his final breath,
Then he cries out, "It is finished",
And gives his spirit up to death.
All truth, all justice has turned to dust,
My faith, my hope, my love is shattered,
All that I had put my trust in,
Nailed to a cross, now torn and tattered.
Where is the man whom I have followed?
Where is my King? Where is my Lord?
Has he delivered me from my sin?
Has he saved me from death's fiery sword?
What kind of amazing love could this be,
That an innocent man would pay such a price,
And not for himself, but for a world of sin,
To redeem the world, he was sacrificed.
Behold this world he gave his life to save,
A world of selfishness, lust, and greed,
A world where truth is disguised or forgotten,
That by his death, through our faith, we are freed.
And surely this was the Son of God,
For none but our King could show such a love,
Sent not to condemn, but to pay the price;
Compassion and mercy from heaven above.
A song, a song for a sacrifice,
A poem of thanks to my Glorious,
An ode, an ode to the arisen Son,
Of the God who reigns victorious.