Two thousand years ago, there was a tiny Babe,
Who came into the world, a sacrifice to be made.
A tiny baby, was sent from God, so lowly meek & mild,
to give the evil, sinful world a Savior….. in a Child.

In the fullness of time, He grew to be a man,
when He was nearly 30, His ministry began.
Since the world was formed, this was God's salvation plan,
to everyone He said, "Ye must be born again".

Thirty pieces of silver, to betray the Son of Man.
Thirty pieces of silver, to crucify the Lamb.
His clothes were torn from Him, as they stripped Him bare.
The people laughed and spit on Him, as they mocked Him there.

"Crucify Him", they cried, their voices full of scorn.
His back was ripped to pieces, as flesh from bone was torn.
His beard was pulled from His dear face, the blood dried and smeared,
from a tree the cross was made and the crowd jeered.

A crown of thorns upon His head, His body beaten and bare,
with nails in His hands and feet, that's how they hung Him there.
Thirty pieces of silver was the price they paid.
Thirty pieces of silver for the sacrifice He made.

In His gentle eyes, the soldiers could see,
only the love of God, as they nailed Him to the tree.
His body hung in agony, while life slipped away,
there was no promise of revenge, for the wrong they did that day.

He said, "Father, forgive them", as from His wounds He bled.
With a whispered, "It is finished", the Lamb of God was dead.
The thunder rumbled as lightening ripped the air.
The earth began to tremble and shake foundations there.

But soon the violent shaking gave way to fearful silence.
Little did they know what caused the terrible violence.
God's Son, God's only Son, the greatest price had paid.
The Lamb's blood was shed, the sacrifice was made.

This was God's perfect plan, the perfect Lamb was slain,
The Lamb of God, the sinless Lamb, on a tree to hang.
With nails in His hands and feet, thorns on His head,
to save a sinful, wicked world, His blood He freely shed.

Thirty pieces of silver, so small a price to pay,
thirty pieces of silver, and in the tomb He lay.
On the third day, the stone was rolled away,
No grave could claim God's only Son.
On the third day He came up out of that grave,
the victory was won.

 

by Nell Berry