Before the Cross

Copyright © 2002   Van Wood

No loss, no gain; No cross, no pain

He could choose to pass it up

The crown of thorns, the jeers, the scorns…

Refuse the bitter cup

And have it all…here and now

And make the crowds believe and bow

But the Garden calls, and the curtain falls

on this, earth’s darkest day

While His friends all sleep, from the inner deep

Jesus bows to pray…

 Not my will, but thine be done

 You my Father, I your son.