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Is That My Lord on the Cross?

Is that my Lord, hanging there?

Bruised and bleeding, stripped and bare?

The One who calmed the raging seas—

Now pierced, now broken—how can this be? 

The hands that healed, now nailed in pain,

The voice that soothed, now cries in vain.

His body torn, His spirit grieves—

Why, my Lord, why won't You leave? 

Just days ago, the crowds adored,

They sang His praise, they called Him Lord.

Hosannas rang, palms lined His way—

How has this love turned to betray? 

Didn’t He heal their sick, their blind?

Didn’t He show such love, so kind?

Didn’t He raise their dead to life?

Why now this cross, this cruel strife? 

My heart is heavy; my tears won’t cease,

Why must my Savior know no peace?

Why doesn’t He rise, display His might?

Why does my King endure this night? 

As anguish swells, I cry aloud,

My voice drowned by the mocking crowd.

Then, softly spoken, a voice I hear,

A truth so heavy, yet so clear: 

“Have you forgotten why He came?

It’s love that holds Him in this shame.

For you, for all, He bears this grief,

Through pain and death, you’ll find relief. 

Your sin, your chains, they led Him here,

His blood will cleanse what you hold dear.

For you, He suffers; for you, He dies,

That you may live when He will rise. 

So see the cross, not just His pain—

See mercy, hope, and love’s refrain.

For you, He stays, though free to flee,

For you, He gives eternity.”

What a horror to behold  !

What a love to gaze upon !

What a hope to hold !

My Lord was hung

My Redemption is Sure.