Thy Cross

Thy Cross



Thy cross, Thy cross, Thy cross, O Lord,
How it stands throughout the centuries,
And decades, unto every generation.
Towering over the carnage of human history,
Casting its shadow over the butchery and brutality
That spews out from every heart that rejects its bloody remedy.

This cross, Thy cross, must become my cross.
Its ignominy and infamy I must accept,
And run to where its shadow may fall on me.
For in my heart are found the deep, dark paths of sin.
The corridors that demons negotiate
To breach the limits of a bodiless subsistence,
And with cunning learned throughout the ages of man,
Find those through whom, whether they claim ignorance or
Ignorantly boast of full cooperation,
Lucifer removes all doubts as to his existence.

Over against the jagged edges of chaos,
Up out of the shambles of the chronicles
Of little kings and petty princes,
Stands the only and final hope for humanity,
The cross of Jesus Christ.
Upon which the Almighty utter words
Nearly too loving to embrace,
Too magnificent to believe,
Too august to come from the lips of a naked,
Condemned and unrecognizable man.
And would be,
If the man where not a lamb,
If the lamb were not a lion,
And the lion were not The King.
“Father, forgive them,
For they know not what they do.”