Still my favorite Easter song.
The maker of the universe,
as man for man was made a curse.
The claims of law which he had made,
unto the uttermost he had paid.
His holy fingers made the bow
that grew the thorns which crowned his brow.
The nails that pierced his hand were mined
in secret places he designed.
He made the forest whence it sprung
the tree on which his body hung.
He died upon a cross of wood
yet made the hill on which it stood.
The sky that darkened ore his head
by him above the earth was spread.
The sun that hid from him its face
be his decree was poised in space.
The spear which spilled his precious blood
was tempered in the fires of God.
The grave in which his form was laid
was human wrought his hands had made.
The throne on which he now appears
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