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