Glory of the Cross
It is written that you left everything
That you emptied yourself of all
I find in this so dangerous a meaning
But it explains the significance of the fall
It explains the value of my worth
Something I tremble to believe, muchless
Proclaim about the sinner from birth
I'm immense with an inexplicable vastness
Of sweet uncomprehended happiness.
I am multiplied in joy and senselessness.
You Creator and sustainer of all the universe
Should you stop creating yet creation stays
But what if the sustainer dies, I see a reverse
What if the beam that holds the roof decays
What a tumbling of it though the builder lives
Galaxies of all: sun, moon, angels and stars, will
They hold if God upon the cross like a beam gives
Shall not even a conjured singularity falls still?
If God should die, and the grave kept him bound
How absent the world, how void and profound?
Christ the Sustainer then risked all that he is
Self and universe for me, his contented price
To pay, knowing all I am, and I being not his
By sin, he chose to pay with so vast a sacrifice
And this, the Creator, who valued me, decrees
Is my worth, is my total humanity's bill. So vast
A reckoning brings me silent to vapour of knees
For God plus the universe makes me to surpass
The worth of God even, an esteem beyond grasp
A model he made but I did not prior ever clasp.
Now I can truly glory in the cross. Now I can do
More than I know to do, for faith leaps beyond
The knowledge of my heart. The cross is the clue
To the image, and restores my purpose most grand
For he that said esteem the other better than self
In the cross gave that esteem to me voluntarily
And I did not know it, but content, kept it on shelf
While Darwin rewrote my meaning in vain history
And I evolving in thoughts sinful inhabited its shame
When the cross had already taken all my blame
O Paul, you may glory true, but I more glory than
All, the cross has ransomed me from the fall
Uplifted, restored to the image of God, this new man
Feels worthy now to stand, and I proclaim to all
That Christ has ransomed me, coming back free
Of death shrouds, with power over hell and grave
The God of glory, by the cross of infinite liberty
Lifted me from a mere creation, honor and glory gave
Me as a crown, but not me more than you friend
The potter waits to put your faith together again.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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