Jun
2
2012
The Wood Tells The Story
The wood tells the story, which Noah began,
Enclosed on the ark, shut in by God’s Hand.
It floated above the destruction below,
A dove, and a branch, and a promise rainbow.
The wood tells the story, which Abraham began,
The wood for the fire; God provided the lamb,
The wood on the shoulders of his precious son,
The ram in the thicket, a substitute one.
The wood tells the story of doorposts with stain,
Splattered with blood of a lamb that was slain,
The blood that would save as death passes by,
The joy of salvation while others would cry.
The wood tells the story of the One it contains,
The small baby Jesus, the Christ is His Name.
The wood of the manger, the cow’s feeding trough,
The Creator flails helpless; the wood was so rough.
The wood tells the story; the hill Calvary,
The wood of the cross where He died there for me.
The wood on the shoulders of God’s only Son.
The Lamb in my place, the substitute One.
The wood tells the story of the cross with my name.
Nailed there my sin, my guilt, and my shame.
The wood holds my Savior; the wood meant for me.
My Lord laid His life down, so I could be free.
For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18)
Almost rivals the scarlet thread!