It wasn't the guards or the Roman soldiers
That took Jesus' life that day
As they placed on His head a crown of thorns
And stripped His clothes away.
It wasn't the spikes in His hands and feet
Or the sword thrust in His side.
It was His willingness to die for my sin
With His arms spread open wide.
As He looked down on those who spit in His face
And angrily screamed, "Crucify!"
He knew that their only way of redemption
Was for God's Perfect Lamb to die.
Then He looked down through time and saw my need,
On His shoulders He carried my sin.
He bore it willingly, without regret
Even as God turned His face from Him.
He gave up His Spirit that dark, dismal day,
Spent His last breath on Calvary's tree.
He willingly suffered and died for the chance
To spend all of eternity with me.
But as the sun rose that first Easter morning,
Pouring light into His cold, empty tomb,
The angel declared, "He's not here, He has risen!
Don't despair, you will see Him soon!"
His sacrifice forever changed my life
And has changed where forever I'll live.
He was willing to give up His life for me...
What am I willing to give?
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