I gaze in wonder, oh my God,
Upon Thy Son, and feel so small;
I think of how the awful rod
Of Thy just wrath on Him did fall.
His sweat ran down, as drops of blood,
While those He loved were fast asleep;
He poured His heart in one great flood
(He knew that He with death must meet).
His friends all turned and ran away,
And even Thou didst let Him die.
He cried to Thee from darkest day,
But only pain answered His cry.
Dark tears were shed, but all in vain,
For no one saw that He did cry;
There was no one to share His pain,
But all alone my Lord must die.
They tore His flesh, His hands, His feet;
What pain those nails to Him did bring;
But see in every sore heart-beat
The love that from these wounds does spring.
How can I understand the pain
That He did bear upon the tree?
But lest my life be all in vain,
Please let His love be found in me.
(07/09/87)
© W. J. Watterson
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