Paint Me A Picture

Looking back two thousand years,
When the Lamb of God was slain;
Allow me to paint you a picture please,
Of His hurt and of His pain.

The mind cannot imagine,
All the shame He felt that day
But deep inside His aching heart,
He knew this was the way.

Through the windows of my soul,
I see Mount Calvary
And on that cold and lonely hill hangs
Jesus on the tree.

The crown of thorns upon His head
Was all He wore that day.
The garments that they snatched from Him,
The soldiers took away.

I saw the nails that held Him there
Pushed deep into His hands.
His precious Blood was spilled that day, And from His body ran.

He bore the marks of a beaten man,
His flesh torn into shreds.
But not one bone was broken,
As the prophets of old had said.

He was not easily recognized,
This bruised and battered man.
He had suffered all our sins,
This was His master plan.

I saw Him lift His eyes to God,
His words were just a few;
And then He said, "Forgive them Father,
They know not what they do."

God then looked down upon His Son,
The Sacrifice was made.
It must have hurt Him deep inside,
But salvation's plan was paid.

Although the day was black as night,
When lightening split the sky
I saw the face of Jesus,
And I began to cry.

The tears ran freely down His cheeks,
The bitter end was here.
He knew He had His Father,
But for us He cried a tear.

"Into Your hands," I heard Him say
To His Father up above.
He died with this upon His lips,
This Man with so much Love.

The picture now is painted
That God wanted me to see;
He did it all because of Love,
His Love for you and me.
 
By: Ann Dean
(Lillyinmyvalley)
Easter of 1985