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Post by benshelpmeet on Sept 22, 2004 10:10:10 GMT -5
The Cross
The Cross. Jutting upward into an angry black sky. Two rough timbers the resting place for Deity. Like a hot knife through butter, iron nails pierce the Beloved. He writhes in pain.
The Cross. Though gone for centuries, still a monument. A junction between Heaven and Earth, Heaven and Hell. Eternity stands in the balance. He pays willingly.
The Cross. All those who hang there are accursed. The fury of God’s judgment on sin is meted out. Undeserving humanity looks on in apathy He forgives them.
The Cross. Lightening bolts flash, the heavens roar. The veil of the temple rent in twain. The blood of the new covenant pours out at the feet of sinners He atones
The Cross. A corpse taken down by broken hearted ones. He’s dead, we’d thought He had been the One. In honor He’s wrapped and buried in a borrowed tomb. He just lays there.
The Cross. Mistaken for finality, an earthquake rumbles The giant stone tumbles from it’s resting place. All the powers of Hell can’t hold back the Majesty of Glory. He arose!
The Cross.
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