I stand before the cross of Christ
Or… no, I can’t. I have no right.
I have no right to stand here, free
When he, the holy one, has died – for me!
I bow before the cross of Christ
And weep my thanks
His blood poured out in love for me
His body hanging on that tree
It leaves me with nothing
Nothing to say except
And I’m sorry
And thank you.
What else can I say
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