Copyright by Bob Rogers.

Precious Jesus, I meditate on the day of Your death.

Your hands were bound behind Your back

Your mouth was silent before Pilate

Your ears heard the words “Crucify!”

Your head was crowned with thorns

Your back was bloodied with the whip

Your back bore the cross to Calvary

Your hands and feet were nailed to the cross

Your tongue spoke words of forgiveness

Your side was pierced

Your heart was broken

Your work was finished.

Darkness covered the land and blood covered my sin,

the day the Lamb of God was sacrificed.

I cannot take away Your pain

I cannot pay You for my gain

I cannot be sacrificed in Your place

I can only receive Your gift of grace.