Christ shouldered the Cross and suffered upon it This
poem imagines the wood of the cross being made into a door, something on
which to meditate. By his suffering on the Cross, Jesus carpentered
the door to holy Grace, that we need for heaven.
It recalls when the Israelites smeared blood on the lintel to escape
The Door of the Cross
the cross, they hung Him from,
They drove in nails that held Him fast;
They fixed Him there, to succumb,
His limbs outstretched whilst life did last!
And He hung, His hands unfree,
In agony, upon that tree...
He died Our Lord the Christ,
His Blood ran out, the red, the gore!
On that wood, was Jesus sacrificed.
And through it all, He made a door.
―The portal of our salvation,
For ev'ry people, of ev'ry nation!
A door to heavenly
entry to that
His arms and hands
wood, His torso before:
To this stipes, His feet were nailed:
To the standing wood they were impaled.
how they suspended Him, ,
from trunk and limb!
Like a carcass
And how the vertical split,
In twain, the two of it
the timber cleft,
doorposts, both right and left.
harkens back to Testament Old
the lintel o'er,
Stay inside the Israelites were told:
Till morning come, leave not before.
The angel of death would pass them by
And leave untouched the Hebrew born;
But Egypt's first, that night would die,
Egypt would cry, and it would
came forth from the sticking thorn
the cross, His suff'ring tree;
And from men He felt the hurt, the scorn,
As His life was taken with such cruelty.
At the entryway of grace, beneath the lintel,
He bled as He was sacrificed;
And the mouths of wounds, would glory tell,
As they spoke of the courage of
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