Multiple-Gifts

With nails in his hands and feet, he seemed defeated His face bled as he bowed his head and said its completed; The sound of thunder and the sky turned dark He hung there in shame to cleanse our hearts; At the base of the cross they knelt and wept They removed his body and in a tomb he slept; Three days they mourned his lifeless soul Day three he arose healthy and whole; They saw his wounds in the palms of his hands The stripes on his back when he could barely stand; His head bore the scars from the crown of thorns The wound in his side from which his flesh was torn; His feet carried holes from his pain and disgrace They plucked his beard and scared his face; He was tattered and torn from his head to his toes There’s a story to be told for our lives he atoned; The thorns on his head for us to think and pray The holes in his feet so we’ll follow his way; The nails in his hands tell us to reach and to hold The scares from his face remind us to humble our souls; Water gushed from his side for his word we would thirst The blood from the cross so we will put him first; His birth a great gift and his death just the same One gave us great hope and the other his name; For he came to earth with grace and glory But he would leave behind an amazing story; This love so pristine to save our lives from loss Came from a child in a manger to a man on a cross