Death On A Tree
A Alf Hutchison
0
Altın Yaprak
‘Father please take this cup from me’,
Echoed His cry from Gethsemane,
He prayed aloud and He did fret
Droplets of blood ran down as sweat,
Take this poison, please let me be,
Let me not hang from a cursed tree,
Sorrowful now, and in deep prayer,
He waited for His betrayer there.
Three times on guard Peter had slept,
Whilst his savior prayed, bled and wept,
His Lord three times again he’d spawn
Before sunrise on that fateful morn.
“Not My will but the Father’s be done”
God had requested the death of His Son,
Jesus now obedient unto death on a tree,
Obediently He died…to save you and me.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş