I could have been the cup Christ raised instead of the cross that raised Him up

 

I could have been balm to ease His pain intead of the pain of His bitter cup.

 

I could have been the colt that bore Him but I was the sin he bore instead.

 

I could have been his crown of joy instead I was the crown of thorns on his head.

 

In spite of what I could have been that was never realized,

 

He died for me and made of me a possession He has prized.

 

In spite of what I could have been and what I never could be

 

He cancelled all my unworthiness and made a saint of me.

 

I could have been the bread he broke and not nails by which he was broken,

 

And I could have blessed his holy name, but I was the curses that were spoken.

 

I could have been the wine he drank instead of the putridbitter gall,

 

I could have been water to wash his feet, but I was a sepulchre's whitewashed wall

 

In spite of what I could have been that was never realized,

 

He died for me and made of me a possession He has prized.

 

In spite of what I could have been and what I never could be

 

He cancelled all my unworthiness and made a saint of me.

 

I could have been one who bore his cross, but I was the burden he bore.

 

I could have been a royal robe on His back but I was the stripes he wore.

 

I could have been light that pierced the darkness, but instead I pierced his side

 

I could have never paid sin's awful price so he paid the cost for me and died.

 

In spite of what I could have been that was never realized,

 

He died for me and made of me a possession He has prized.

 

In spite of what I could have been and what I never could be

 

He cancelled all my unworthiness and made a saint of me.

 

12/7/93

Anthony Foster

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 1993 Anthony Foster