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.