The Cross at Christmas

 

He came to me from no-where,

Touched my hand and said;

I have something to show you,

And into the night He led.

He took me to a green hillside,

Where a great wooden cross-stood;

Asked me what I saw there,

And if I understood.

I looked at the cross blindly,

And in answer did reply;

I see a cross before me a place where someone died.

He turned me to face him,

And looked into my eyes;

Said see the cross with your heart,

Before you do reply.

I looked at the cross saw rivers of red,

Fountains of blood that someone had shed,

I looked at my life saw it black with sin,

And all of a sudden the Savior walked in.

The blood of the cross I touched with my hand,

And the love of the Savoir slowly began.

Great floods of his blood began to touch me,

And the black ness of sin turned to white;

I knew in my heart I had finally come,

Into His presence that night.

Now I look at the cross and I see such love

That is promised to all of mankind;

The promise of love, paid with a great price;

His death for your life and mine.

I see how His blood, although it is red,

Can turn our black sin to white;

I see how his love and unfailing grace

Can bring us back into the light.

I see through the cross what Christmas now means,

A promise through out all the land;

I see through the cross how He died and rose,

To bring Gods redemption to man.

Averil Bayard

Copyright ©2001 Averil Bayard