The Picture

When i was young you were only the face in a picture I never knew your name, or the things that you've done I could see your pain, not knowing you, were dying for us all The lonely man hanging on the wall Who could do such things as this? Who are you, man on the cross? You suffer for those that don't care Your blind from the tears, as you weep Blood flows from a spear, sent deep The dying man hanging on the wall They crowned you with thorns, spit and scorn You struggled not or cried aloud Yet, you prayed to god, to spare this crowd Take me so, they shall live I am the truth, the light, the one For now, here I'am done I now have a name for my picture Jesus Christ, Lord of this land, Son of god, King of man!