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!
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