The Grace of the Cross

Write on a stone, cold and grey,
When comes the time of the grave.
The hope that can therein lay
Of the joy for all He gave;
He makes still an anxious heart.

To give the heart of a Son
That on an alter lay
Where peace is to be won,
And there His Glory stay;
He comforts a broken heart.

The Bread of Life is raised,
His atoning blood is spilled.
This cup of shame He suffered
To atone as God has willed;
He heals the bleeding heart.

So heavy does our sorrow
As a cloud hang o'er us now,
As one by one we falter
From the burden on our brow;
He subdues a dying heart.

What is this Cross to Me?
His love by blood outpoured.
Beneath its shadow there to be
From sin and shame restored;
He stills a hopeless heart!