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
