The Master's Sacrifice
A sight too awful to bear my savior carrying his death,
the cross.
Dust gathers were blood and tears have fallen
from my master's precious face.
People from every street corner shout
"Crucify him, away with him!"
And spit on the precious, spotless white lamb.
People amidst the angry mob wonder
Why he, if the Son of God,
doesn't call ten thousand angels to destroy the world
and set him free.
But no, he died so we might live,
And this, friend is the masters sacrifice.