Lord, I see you on the cross each day,
Through the things I do and say.
You feel the bite of a soldiers scourge,
When a brother's fall my actions urge.

A crown of thorns Your brow does pierce,
While I sin in anger, proud and fierce.
Your wounds a purple robe does burn,
As mockingly, Your love I spurn.

With hands and feet by nails ****** through,
You die the awful death I'mdue.
And as Your side the sword does cleave,
Your precious blood flows forth, for me.

Forgive me, Lord, my heart renew;
I confess, right now, my sin to You.
Your strength I need, for I'm too weak,
To live the words which now I speak;
Be glorified through me this day,
In everything I do and say.

©1980 Michael S. Davis